


To Breed An Omega (ABANDONED)

by okomirose, VincentMeoblinn



Series: Perfect Match Omegaverse [6]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal, Angst, BDSM, Bonding, Crossdressing, F/F, F/M, Fingering, Homophobia, Lactation, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Murder, Omegaverse, Oral, Pack Dynamics, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Romance, Vaginal, cases
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 34,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okomirose/pseuds/okomirose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the concept that Perfect Matches (see Perfect Match fic) are also Soul Mates- this is the journey of a past Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. In an age before Omega Rights, John has to fight to claim the Omega Sub who he has formed an inexplicable tie to when Sherlock's parents sell the young doctor his first Heat. (EDIT: This story was revised as of Dec 24 2013 to include all Omegas wearing dresses. It need not be re-read unless you wish to.)</p><p>This fic takes place in 1830, two years before the Breeding Rights Act of 1832 abolished the use of Dowries and Bride/Groom Prices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

The fact that the Holmes Family, longstanding country squires, had somehow managed to birth only two children, let alone for neither of them to be an Alpha, was shocking in the least. It had become quite the town rant when they refused to marry off Mycroft while waiting to see whether or not their seven-years-younger-son Sherlock was breedable. That they were waiting to see if he was the Alpha the family needed to continue the name remained unspoken but acknowledged by a raising of an eyebrow and an understanding nod.

The difficulty was when the youngest Holmes turned out to be an Omega as well and the family frantically married Mycroft off to the Lestrades’ – a family of respectable lawmakers and peacekeepers – while searching for a suitable match for Sherlock. By suitable everyone knew – again without mentioning it out loud, mind you – that they wanted someone _controllable._ They were still searching when the lad turned 18 and rumors of his nasty temper and sharp tongue started circulating. Apparently he had offended the last dozen or so suitors and their parents immediately upon meeting them. Desperate, the family left their usual stomping grounds and headed for the city to introduce their wayward child to society there and attempt to find him a _suitable_ match.

Enter John Watson, of a poor family of doctors and soldiers who had just moved to London from Dublin, Ireland. They were just beginning to introduce their daughter to society while looking for a bondmate for John. John was fresh out of medical school and eager to find an Omega as he had quickly tired of Beta females at Uni, since they usually couldn’t take his knot.

John was at a rather posh party at the Holmes residence, invitation gotten by his father’s gambling luck - when John saw Sherlock for the first time. He had been hearing all evening about the young Omega, but he had apparently refused to show himself until now. Now he practically stormed the room, stepped into the middle of the dance floor, disrupted the music and scattered the dancers, and glared around at all and sundry. He was wearing a green velvet dress with the square neckline typical for male Omegas, the sleeves French cut to show his slenderness, the full skirts never hampering his smooth gait. The layers beneath the dress hid some of his shape, but not enough to detract from his obviously willowy figure. Instead John was left wondering if he had a flat chest or smallish tits, likely the former since it was unusual for unbred, thin Omegas to have even tiny buds. John dragged his eyes away from the Omega’s body and focused on the more shocking part; he was dragging a wheeled chalkboard behind him and a long equation was written out on it.

“Anyone here because you think I’m pretty: leave,” He demanded, his voice sinfully deep and quite scathing, “Anyone here to advance your social standing without interest in marriage to my person: leave. Anyone here to see ‘The Freak’ and spread more nasty rumors: leave and go perform unspeakable and inappropriate actions upon yourselves.”

“Sherlock!” A distressed, but still elegant woman shrieked from the doorway as she hurried into the room. She grabbed Sherlock by his ear and pulled _hard_. “My apologies! He is near his cycle and you know howsome get at that point!”

Several people took eager steps forward, probably wanting to administer to the Omegas needs… frequently and with vigor, but Mrs. Holmes was dragging the unremorseful Sherlock back out the door by his ear. He managed to remain upright and unflustered the entire time, as though she were leading him by the hand instead of the soft flesh of his ear. John’s cock throbbed as the word _masochist_ flooded his brain with filthy images. He had rarely had opportunity to stretch out his more sadistic side.

“Anyone here unable to solve this equation: leave!” Sherlock shouted over his shoulder.

The double doors were slammed shut by a man resembling Sherlock but with a large, hooked nose. Mr. Holmes gave the room an amused look, glanced at the equation, and laughed it all off.

“Such impudence in these unmated Omegas! They require such a _firm_ hand, do they not?”

It was bit vulgar, but then this was a room full of Alphas on the prowl, and they all enthusiastically toasted Mr. Holmes’ Omega son. Except John: John stepped forward, snatched up a piece of chalk, worked out the answer in shorthand, and then circled it as though he were still at Uni. _Then_ he raised his glass and toasted Mr. Holmes.

“For the record Mr. Holmes, I pass the rest of his criteria as well,” John stated, “To your health and your family’s, may they bear fertile cubs.”

“To you and yours,” The man automatically answered back, giving him a baffled look, “Are you saying my son is unattractive?”

“Not at all, but I didn’t come here because he is, or for any other reasons listed; I came here because I got an invitation.”

There was a round of laughter and Mr. Holmes toasted him back enthusiastically this time and invited him upstairs to meet his son privately. John blushed, but accepted as graciously as his poor etiquette instructions allowed. John followed Mr. Holmes up a rather lovely set of stairs, down a dim hallway with lots of portraits that looked as though they were watching you, and into a room that was utterly destroyed. Broken furniture, torn linens, and shattered glass littered the room; and in the center of the hurricane was Sherlock Holmes, throwing a tantrum to end all tantrums.

“I won’t have some blithering idiot mount and breed me! I’m brilliant! I outshine them all while I’m still groggy and wanting my morning tea! I’m a _Holmes_ not some stupid, insignificant…”

“Watson?” John offered.

Sherlock blinked at him: “You’re a doctor. A surgeon. Just out of school.”

“Oh, you’ve heard of me then,” John replied, bewildered. He was fresh to London, and though his family had passed their cards around he had yet to be introduced at a formal party. His father had secured only one invitation for tonight, so he’d come un-chaperoned.

“No, but your demeanor, dress, and quick wit give you away.”

“Sorry, how?”

“You stitched that tear in your overcoat-” Sherlock started only to be interrupted by his mother’s scolding. “-using a surgeon’s stitch. You’re too young to have practiced for long, but you’re making circuits looking for a bondmate instead of working or studying, so you’re fresh from Uni. Also, you’re from a poor to lower middle class family with another, younger, Omega child.”

“How could you _possibly_ know that?”

“You’re clothing are second hand, but they aren’t your father’s, therefore you do not come from wealth or even a high standing family fallen on hard times. Besides, your butting into my speech and implying you were stupid and insignificant is rather telling. Only families that breed few Omegas- and therefore have lower social status- would consider them of lower intelligence. You’re here alone,” Sherlock continued after drawing a quick breath, “So your parents are focusing their attention on their younger child, the one who’s more likely to catch a mate because he or she is an Omega and Omegas are rare. Oh, and that child is gay, but you’re the only one who knows that.”

John gaped: “How…”

“Your face when I mentioned he or she was more likely to catch a mate. You winced. Gave it all away, really. Quite obvious.”

The room at large looked exhausted and bored. Apparently his parents went through this regularly and were just waiting for John to storm out of the room. Sherlock’s father stepped closer to him in a defensive move, just in case John stormed _at_ Sherlock instead.

“That was… incredible,” John breathed.

“Sorry, what?” Sherlock blinked.

“That was incredible. Absolutely brilliant,” John insisted in a louder voice, emboldened by the lack of being turned out on his ear.

“Intriguing. That isn’t what people usually say.”

“What do they usually say?”

“Piss off.”

“Sherlock!” Mrs. Holmes shrieked, looking almost frantic. She was trying to subtly indicate that John was a good match, but was failing at the subtlety part. No wonder the lad thought himself brilliant and special when compared to his insipid Omega mother; it was a miracle she’d birth such a genius in the first place. Frankly, John was entitled to agree with the gorgeous creatures self-analysis.

“Oh, but I’m not stupid, by the way, and the answer was 243,” John replied, “I wrote it on the board downstairs if you’d like to have a look?”

Sherlock seemed to consider, then darted off and picked up another broken chalkboard from the wreckage of his room. He propped it against the wall and wrote out another equation. John stepped forward, but gave it only a glance before shaking his head in defeat.

“Sorry, no. I’m no Omega. There’s a reason you lot run the household while we fight and dig fields.”

Sherlock scowled, “We’re wasted on household accounting!”

“Clearly,” John agreed with a nod, fully prepared to be a free thinker.

Sherlock blinked at him, and then smiled and his parents literally breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, Mr…” Sherlock’s father started out, waiting for an introduction.            

“Dr. Watson, Dr. John Watson,” John stepped forward and handed his card to the Alpha, who glanced it over, raised an eyebrow, and passed it to his Omega wife.

She glanced it over, pocketed it, and then sighed in frustration.

John sighed as well, “I’ll just show myself out, then, shall I?”

John was used to this response. His card showed the statistics of his families breeding lines, namely that he had a poor chance of conceiving fertile children despite the fact he and his only other sibling had both been born fertile. Without Alphas and Omegas to carry on the line no high standing family would consider him. He was fishing out of the wrong lake and he knew it.

“I think that would be best, dear,” Mrs. Holmes nodded.

“Now wait just a moment!” Sherlock snarled.

“ **Sherlock!”** Mr. Holmes shouted, and everyone’s knees hit the floor. Hard. “I’ll have none of your lip anymore tonight! You have embarrassed our family! Go see Mrs. Hudson and have her draw your bath. Perhaps a soak will calm your overworked nerves until we can find you someone to take care of you properly!”

Sherlock scampered out the door, but not before giving John a curious glance in passing. John was levering himself to his feet, feeling embarrassed about being floored by another Dom in front of two Omegas. Clearly the man was powerful, but that didn’t make it any less humiliating. John found his way back out of the house quite easily, avoiding the party along the way, and leaned against a pole to wait for the next tram.

It was three days later when Sherlock and his parents showed up in his parent’s flat looking a combination of disgusted and desperate. Sherlock beamed at him as John’s father welcomed them into their dingy flat with many apologies as to the state. They all settled down and John’s mum, who poured for everyone, brought round tea. Once everyone had taken his or her obligatory sip it was down to business.

“Mr. Watson,” Mr. Holmes started with a reserved look on his face, “My Omega and I would like to negotiate a stud fee for your young Alpha son.”


	2. Chapter 2

John was sure he’d seen pound signs appear in his parent’s eyes. The typical stud fee for one Heat was enough to pay a month’s rent of a flat far larger than their own. However, stud fees meant the Omega’s family kept the child, with the Alpha signing off all rights. Instead of marrying into a wealthy family, he would be handing them his future offspring. The very idea sickened him. He hadn’t even heard studding was still going on in cities like this! It was _uncivilized_. At least a bride or groom price meant they would raise the child together!

“That’s _uncivilized_ ,” John insisted, though his eyes involuntarily roamed the Omegas willowy body. He was wearing a purple dress today of a less frivolous cut, it was so dark that it almost looked black and it made his eyes appear nearly grey.

“That is our _only_ offer,” Mr. Holmes stated, meaning there was no way in hell John was marrying in.

Sherlock gave John a sultry look and ran his fingers through his dark, curly hair. John’s entire body literally _twitched_ forward without his consent. Sherlock must have been on the first couple of days of estrus. John was rock hard at the scent of arousal emanating from the young Omega. Sherlock’s parents smirked at his reaction and John scowled at them angrily.

“Would you excuse us for a moment please?” John’s father asked, standing and gripping John’s arm firmly.

John was practically dragged down the hall and into his bedroom where his father shoved him gruffly onto his bed.

“Are you out of your _mind?”_ Hamish demanded, “Nearly forty percent of Alphas never get to lay a finger on Omegas, John. _Forty percent_. If I had a chance to breed with your mother, if that was my only chance, I’d have taken it and not thought twice! The _experience_ alone is worth it, John!”

“I’ll never see my child! I’ll never get to touch Sherlock again after this! Even if they come back once or twice more, what does that do for me? I get a quick shag, but that’s it?”

John’s father gaped at him. Then a look of horror crossed his face.

“Are you gay?” He asked him in a whisper.

“What? No! Why would you even ask that?”

“Because we aren’t talking about a one-off son, we’re talking about three or more days and nights of constant sex in which _you get to bury your knot in an Omega!_ You won’t get satisfaction like that from a Beta, even one able to take you all the way in; their bodies are made differently. Even outside of Heat, Omegas don’t compare to a Beta, and we’re talking about a _Heat_. If you end up as one of the 40% of Alphas who never get an Omega mate, which is fairly likely from our financial situation and low breeding rate, then you might never get to spend even _one hour_ between an Omegas legs again!”

“We wouldn’t be in this ‘financial state’ if you hadn’t gamboled my groom price away!”

John deserved the backhand he received, but that didn’t make it any easier to take.

“You,” Hamish snarled, “Will do as you are told for as long as you live under this roof; which will continue until you either marry a rich Omega or Beta, or pay off your student loans. Now, your mother will negotiate with Mrs. Holmes and you will smile and do your duty to this family.”

“Then I want the fee to go towards my loans.”

John didn’t think that was an unreasonable request, and he also didn’t feel that he deserved the second back hand that sent him sprawling to the floor, but he was the son and couldn’t strike back or he would risk being thrown from the home. Alphas who outstayed their welcomes under their father’s roofs often starved before finding employment – especially unconnected ones like John - because it was seen as a sign of a shorter fuse than normal.

John followed his father back into the room, blushing as Sherlock raised an inquiring eyebrow at the sight of his red face; that bruises would form soon was obvious.

“We want to see his virility before we begin, as well as a fertility sample,” Mrs. Holmes stated firmly.

John blushed furiously.

“Performed by a doctor, or at home?” John’s mother- Nancy- asked.

“Oh, a doctor of course.”

John groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“Mum!” Sherlock argued, “ _I_ want to do it!”

“Sherlock! Mind yourself!” Mrs. Holmes snapped irritably.

“We won’t have much time,” Hamish replied with a frown, his nose twitching at the smell of aroused Omega flooding the room.

“We have a personal physician at our home. Sherlock is due on Heat at any point. Your lad can pack a change of clothing and come along with us right now. If he fails the test we’ll send him back home with no mention of it made to anyone outside our immediate family.”

“Just a moment, now,” Nancy stalled, “We’d want the results published. If he’s going to be studded out, then I don’t see why we can’t have the results to look for others who may be interested in his services, and I have no doubt my son is quite fertile. Will your physician provide them?”

Mrs. Holmes frowned, but acquiesced. It was normally an expensive test to have performed. They were getting quite a deal by having free results handed to them.

“The fee offered?” Nancy asked, looking quite content with the proceedings so far.

“£100,” Mrs. Holmes stated, and all three Watson’s sat there in stunned silence, “And if he produces a male child we are willing to hire him again.”

A male child was more likely to be an Alpha, though it was still not guaranteed. John found himself frantically calculating the chances he’d produce a male cub. His family had only born about 50% male offspring over the years, creating more Betas then Alphas or Omegas, which was stated clearly on the card John had given Mrs. Holmes three days ago. However, both John and Harry were fertile, making this generation 50% male but 100% breedable, but that sort of thing had to occur for three generations before breeding cards were updated. His father had been one of six children, of which only two were breedable despite all six being male. His mother one of twelve children of which only she was breedable while four had been male. It didn’t look good for him.

“Well that’s… an excellent offer. More than satisfactory,” Nancy squeaked, then narrowed her eyes, “We’ll require a clean bill of health on Sherlock.”

Mrs. Holmes narrowed her eyes right back and looked affronted, her spine straightening so far it looked painful while her nostrils flared in outrage. 

“My son is a _good_ Omega!”

“It’s not an unusual request,” Nancy soothed.

“We haven’t the time!”

“My husband is a physician. He can perform the examination. Immediately, if need be.”

Mrs. Holmes sat there and waffled for a moment, clearly torn between propriety and necessity. They were cutting it close and they knew it. At any point Sherlock could go into Heat and she would loose everything if John and Sherlock bonded during the frantic, uncontrolled breeding that would occur immediately after.

Mrs. Holmes must have given her husband some kind of sign, because he sighed and turned to Sherlock.

“Son, **strip**.”

Sherlock growled out his annoyance at being Dom’d, but stood and began removing clothing quite quickly. John felt his mouth dry up and his already aching cock twitch almost painfully as inch after inch of alabaster skin was revealed to their eyes. John’s father left to fetch his bag and John stared at Sherlock without an ounce of shame. Had they told him to fuck their son over the table that moment he’d have done it and his own personal morals be damned. Frankly, he was barely resisting the urge as it was. Sherlock seemed to know this and gave him a flirty wink as he dropped the last bit of his petticoats on the floor in a pool around his feet.

“Sherlock!” Mrs. Holmes scolded once more. Sherlock ignored her and kept an intense eye contact going with John, who couldn’t help but notice the lad’s erection.

He’d never seen a male Omega naked before, or a female besides his sister for that matter. Hell, he’d never been this _close_ to one- clothed or not- who wasn’t directly related to him by blood or already bonded. Sherlock was a good four inches taller than John, but his cock was that same length _shorter_ ; it looked a mere nine inches long! John’s member hadn’t ever been that small when erect since he’d reached puberty. In fact it was about that size when limp. It also didn’t point towards the ceiling; it was simply too heavy to do that and stuck straight out in front of him when not contained by trousers and pants. It did, however, leak pre-come when he was significantly aroused (by something other than posturing) as Sherlock’s prick was doing now. He was also curious about the shape; he’d never seen a male who was circumcised before. Betas and Alphas would never think to cut any part of their penis off, but it had become a fad in the last century to do so with male Omegas in order to make them look more graceful. John didn’t think it looked graceful, he thought it looked harder and more prominent. He’d always thought the idea of circumcision was disgusting, but seeing Sherlock’s rock hard member before him now, he was suddenly quite enamored with the thought of taking it in hand and giving it several rough strokes until…

John adjusted himself uncomfortably.

Hamish returned and began examining Sherlock’s body, probing his entrance with gloved fingers, sniffing him, taking samples of his anal lubrication and the pre-come that was beading on the head of his proud cock. He pinched Sherlock’s nipples and a bit of fluid beaded out of there, too. He swabbed some up. Sherlock was trembling with desire, his face flushed and his breath shallow. John might have become irrationally jealous had Sherlock’s eyes not remained on him the entire time.

“I’ll need a urine sample as well,” Hamish intoned.

“I doubt that is possible,” Mr. Holmes snorted, nodding towards Sherlock’s aroused state.

“Oh, the semen sample comes first,” Hamish replied, then handed Sherlock two flasks.

“Where should I go, then?” Sherlock asked, apparently unfazed by the idea of masturbating in their home for Hamish’s examination.

“Here, I’m afraid. It’s procedure that I watch and one of your family member’s remains in the room for your safety. My son, however, should leave.”

“He stays,” Sherlock replied.

No one argued, but Hamish did inch closer to John as though to stop him from reacting. It turned out to be a good thing Hamish blocked his path, because after only a few strokes of that gorgeous Omegas hand across his member John was straining to get to him. Hamish hissed for him to kneel in his ear and John’s knees hit the ground.

John groaned in agony, especially since the Omega’s eyes had never left his own the entire time and he now had a clear view of what the dripping wet Omega was doing to himself. Sherlock had kneeled on a towel Nancy had produced for him, facing away from John and his father as he leaned across the couch back, but peering over his shoulder at John. He had three fingers buried inside him, pumping in and out fast. When Sherlock slipped in a forth and then finally pushed his entire _hand_ inside John began panting, his hands were clenched into fists and pressed to his thighs, his cock straining against the confining material of his trousers. He was half mad with lust and when Sherlock’s head fell forward with a soft groan and the Omega released into the flask his father held over his cock John’s entire body convulsed. John blushed and looked down at his crotch, but no fluid had released; there wasn’t enough pressure on his knot. He hoped he hadn’t cried out, but he doubted he had remained silent.

A moment later Sherlock switched to the other flask and John looked away as he urinated into it. John’s father analyzed the contents of both flasks and all his swabs: sniffing them, testing the texture with his fingers, and looking at them under a large microscope.  Finally he stepped forward and pronounced Sherlock disease free.

“If you are quite done?” Mrs. Holmes sniffed, clearly still offended.

“My apologies, but I simply must look out for my son, and this is all so sudden,” Nancy replied gently.

Mrs. Holmes’ response was to rise and begin helping her son into his clothes. They all waited for John to stagger to his room and fetch a bag. He was having difficulty walking; he hadn’t been this hard for this long in quite some time. John’s father accompanied him as chaperone and in order to collect the results of John’s examination, which could not be performed by a family member for obvious reasons.

XXXXXXXXXX

John’s examination was equally invasive and humiliating, but he handled it with far less grace than Sherlock had. He blushed, stammered, and might not have been able to squeeze one out had Sherlock not been in the room eye fucking him again. How was an _Omega_ even capable of eye fucking an Alpha? John felt one part violated and two parts intensely desperate for more. This maddening creature was addictive!

While John sat on the table in the small, rather warmly decorated, doctor’s office and stroked his cock, Sherlock leaned against a nearby wall and stared into his soul. John was gasping in minutes, clenching his slowly expanding knot in one hand while he stroked the shaft and ran his palm over the head of his cock with the other. He wanted to hold himself off and show the Omega how long he could go for, but the doctor caught on and snapped at him to speed it up. John blushed, stammered an apology, and tightened his grip. He’d lost focus, though, and it wasn’t until he saw Sherlock subtly licking his lips that his knot swelled completely and began pulsing out string after string of hot, sticky come. The doctor had to push his hand out of the way and quickly press the large flask over the tip to collect it all. John was instructed to lean to the side once his cock stopped spurting so that the man didn’t lose any.

“My, my, nine ounces. You are a healthy lad, we’ll just put this under the microscope, now,” Gaius replied cheerily.

Sherlock winked again and John’s cock gave another enthusiastic spurt onto his clothes. His knot was still fully swollen and wouldn’t be coming down for a bit. John smiled proudly, hoping the Omega was impressed by his size. He was healthy and above average size for an Alpha, which he had discovered with his mates during Uni, but having Gaius announce it earlier had been quite rewarding.

“How long since you last masturbated?” Dr. Gaius asked.

John’s brain had apparently been short circuited by his orgasm because he replied with: “Just now.”

“ _Besides_ just now.”

“Oh… um… a few days ago, I think,” John replied, _Right after I got home from meeting Sherlock Fucking Holmes._

“Thirteen and a half inches! My!” Gaius chuckled again as he stepped back over and re-measured for accuracy sake. Then he measured John’s swollen knot, which left him gasping and twitching a bit.

“Ten inch circumference, most respectable,” Gaius nodded, “You’ll make an excellent stud, young man.”

“What is average for an Omega?” John asked out of curiosity.

“Oh, about six inches. Our Sherlock here is quite well endowed,” Gaius whispered conspiratorially. John flushed and declined to mention he already knew.

“It’s why they thought I was an Alpha,” Sherlock interrupted.

John nodded, but was secretly glad they’d been wrong. This strong beautiful creature was going to be his… even if only for a few nights of passion.


	3. Chapter 3

“Have you ever… been with anyone before?” John asked hesitantly.

John and Sherlock were sitting in his room, nervously waiting for Sherlock’s Heat to start up. John was hard as a rock again (still) and was practically drooling over the nervous Omega who paced the room before him. Sherlock was nearly manic with energy, drinking cup after cup of tea and crossing here and there in the room to poke at various things, pick them up and turn them about in his hands before dropping them again, apparently just to have something to do with his hands.

_I could think of so many things I’d rather him do with his hands._

“No, no, of course not. Mummy would never allow it,” Sherlock made a face that suggested he was tired of doing what Mummy allowed.

“Yeah… it’s different for Betas and Alphas I guess. We’re practically encouraged. I’ve been with Betas, but no Omegas. I don’t think I’ve ever even smelled one… excited… before.”

“Oh, do I smell?” Sherlock asked without any sign of offense, more like he was honestly curious.

“Well… a bit, yeah.”

“What’s it like?”

“Um… musky? Sweet? A bit… flavorful.”

“You can _taste_ me?” Sherlock asked, eyes focusing in on him as if he were an object that required study.

_Oh, god, you have no idea how much I want to taste you._

“Almost, more like… if I breathe through my mouth I can smell you that way, too.”

“The olfactory and gustatory senses are connected, and through a process called chemo sensation…”

“Can I kiss you?” John interrupted.

“Yes, I suppose.”

Sherlock stopped his frantic pacing and simply stood in the middle of the room, so John crossed to him and ran a hand gently from his shoulder down to his hand, which he clasped firmly.

“We can do a bit till your Heat kicks in,” John suggested, keeping his voice deep and soothing, “A scene or two. It could take all night, you know, just because you’re close doesn’t mean it will start right away. Have you ever been tied up? Or whipped?”

“I… no… not since… they had us try things on each other in school, but… they were other Omegas…” Sherlock stammered, looking flustered and glancing around the room as though he really needed something to pick up and look at again.

“Would you like to be?” John whispered into Sherlock’s ear, stirring his curls and making him shiver.

“I… I… that’s not really my area.”

“Oh, but I think it is. What’s your word?”

“Cyanide.”

John blinked and stepped back in shock, “Really?”

“Yes, it was a bitch to figure out. I’m just glad it was in the beginning of the dictionary they ended up having me read.”

John laughed; though really he was a bit annoyed the mood had been thrown off. Sherlock took it as an excuse to re-claim his hand and move back across the room to wind up a music box for the third time. John was going to end up hating that song. Hadn’t he been warned not to comment on safety words before?

John hurried after him and pinned the pretty things hands to the dresser he’d been rearranging things on.

“You have such stunning eyes.”

“Well, you won’t see them from this angle,” Sherlock snorted.

“Really? You had no trouble keeping eye contact with me earlier… while you had your fist inside of yourself… the position wasn’t much different than this one.”

“I was… significantly aroused then, and trying to make a point.”

“That point being?”

“Inconsequential.”

“You’re no longer aroused?”

“Not painfully, no, though I suppose I will be shortly.”

“What if I took down your pants and ran my tongue all around your pretty pink hole?” John whispered, licking the tip of his ear.

Sherlock shivered, but his answer was far from what John had expected: “It’s pink?”

“I… yes, well… a bit more to red, actually,” John released Sherlock’s hands and stepped back, stuck somewhere between angry and hurt, “Do you even find me attractive?”

“I’ve offended you,” Sherlock stated, as though commenting on the color of his jumper

“A bit, yeah.”

“How so?”

“You’re utterly unresponsive!”

“I’m very responsive, I’m responding very well, I’ve… responded.”

“Oh, really? How?” John folded his arms in frustration.

“I have an erection, of course,” Sherlock stated as though that were obvious, and turned around to tug up his skirt and show him the tent beneath all the layers, “And as you already noted when commenting on my scent, I’m producing lubrication.”

“Then why aren’t you interested in _fucking_?”

Sherlock blinked: “Well, I got you here, didn’t I?”

“ _You_ got _me_ here?”

“Yes, and it only took three days. Your welcome,” Sherlock replied, completely deadpan.

“You made your parents do this? This… stud thing?”

“Well… I wanted a bit more than that, but my Heat was coming on so this was what I settled for. I’ll work on the rest later. You do want marriage, don’t you? You seemed to at your parents house.”

John opened his mouth to tell the Sub how utterly frustrating, assuming, and egotistical he was, but stopped himself when he saw those eyes flicker. There was fear in those eyes: fear of rejection and what was about to happen to his body. John recalled then this Omega was very _young_ ; had only just had his first Mock Heat, which were torturous and almost always spent alone with a toy or two since Omegas were generally kept virginal until marriage- or breeding, as the case may be.

“I’d prefer marriage to studding, yes, I’d like to raise my own kids myself.”

Sherlock’s face paled, but he nodded. So, the poor thing was afraid of being pregnant, too, well that was only natural. Only a month ago he hadn’t had a sex drive at all, now he was obsessed with having large objects inserted into his rectum until he ejaculated. Add to that the expectation of becoming pregnant, and staying that way until his ovaries dried up, and pushing babies out of said rectum, well… That was a bit disconcerting for anyone.

“Come and sit down on the bed,” John coaxed, “Relax a bit and tell me what you like in bed. Tell me what you don’t like. Hell, tell me what you _think_ you might like or dislike: anything but pacing the room and avoiding looking at me. We aren’t going to get long together, I’d like to make sure it’s good for you.”

“I’ll be in Heat; anything you do to me will be acceptable as long as it involves knotting,” Sherlock’s eyes strayed down to John’s tented trousers and they both shivered a bit.

“I realize that, but I could do a bit more before hand. What I said before… or anything you’d like. I’m here to _pleasure_ you. Take advantage of that, yeah? For both our sakes?”

Sherlock smiled at him then, a broad grin that lit up his face, grabbed John’s hand and tugged him over to the bed. Once there he turned and indicated the hooks on the back of his dress, so John hurriedly undid them before pulling off his jacket and shirt in anticipation.

“I like to be bit,” Sherlock stated, “at least I think I do. I bite my arm when I masturbate and it’s fantastic.”

“Biting is good, I like biting. Anywhere?” John asked, his voice cracking embarrassingly as the gorgeous man kicked his way out of his undergarments.

“Oh, I can reach my own arms. What about legs and buttocks?”

Sherlock rolled onto the bed and lifted his hips and John lost all sense of reason. He pounced on the Omega, running his tongue straight up from bollocks to arse to the small of his back where he gave the young man a little nip. Sherlock first gasped, then moaned, then yelped at the nip. John buried his face in that sweet smelling fissure, rubbing the Omegas juices all over his cheeks and lapping hungrily at his twitching hole. He pointed his tongue and speared it inside the gorgeous creature a few times, wringing cries of surprised pleasure from him, before remembering his request and turning his head to bite the lovely man’s arsecheek.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” Sherlock moaned appreciatively, arching away and then pushing back for more when John released his flesh.

John admired the lovely bite marks and smirked. It was a shame they had put caps on their teeth to stop them from bonding during Sherlock’s Heat. He would have loved to bite until Sherlock bled a bit and then lap it all up, that coppery taste would probably mix beautifully with the musky taste of Sherlock’s desire.

John bit an identical mark into the other side and suddenly the smells in the room intensified so much that John was certain Sherlock had ejaculated, but in fact the scent was coming from his sweat and lubricant. Sherlock’s heat had kicked in and he was panting and crying out as though in pain. John tore his trousers yanking them open and buried himself inside that pert pale arse in one smooth stroke. Sherlock cried out and squirmed to get away from him, but immediately thrust back as his empty body demanded it be filled. There was no gentle during a Heat. John fucked Sherlock fast and hard, knotting him the second it was possible and fisting his cock while the man begged and screamed for more.

There was no describing the beauty of being inside the Omega’s body; tight, wet, hot, clenching, pulling, sucking; none of these words were nearly suitable enough. Sherlock’s greedy hole devoured John, grasping at him and drawing him back in whenever he pulled out. When John’s knot was too big to allow movement, he floundered for a moment, not knowing how to move his body while knotted. Sherlock’s instincts kicked in, however, and the Omega ground himself against John’s body, giving him the motion he needed. John began to rotate his hips and it must have felt brilliant because Sherlock came several times in a row and then fainted away. John moaned and panted and ground his hips over and again until he had climaxed several times in Sherlock’s no-longer-virginal body.

Then he stretched out on top of the lovely Omega, his head resting on that thin body, and bit his shoulders and back until the Omega was writhing and moaning beneath him in bliss. John rode his next orgasm through with him, shouting in pleasure.

“Sherlock! Yes! Oh, gods, yes!!”

“John! Uhn! Ahhh!”

Sherlock fainted away again, and John decided a rest was in order. He couldn’t sleep, no, not with his mind on high alert to protect the lovely creature beneath him, but he could rest his tense body over this beautiful one and spend hours memorizing his scent before Sherlock demanded another knotting from him.

John stretched and fetched food and water for himself once his knot had shrunk enough to free him from Sherlock’s avaricious opening. He took a flannel and dipped it in a nearby bowl of water, turned Sherlock over, and gently cleaned his lovely sweat-dampened face. His curls clung to his forehead and his cheekbones were pink from their recent activities.

“Oh, gods, I could love you, you know that? I could fall madly in love with you and damn the consequences. Do you want that, Sherlock? Do you want my mark on your throat, my cubs in your belly, and my collar around that pretty, long neck of yours?”

Sherlock arched his back in his sleep, his neck displaying itself seemingly of its own accord. John dove down and bit hard, intending on bonding with him, but there were blocks in his mouth that prevented his teeth from emerging. John wanted to remove them, but remembered he was not allowed to and a bit more rationality was creeping in.

That logic was quickly replaced by instinct as Sherlock arched again and cried out. His Omega needed to be filled. John mounted his love again, thrusting inside of him smoothly, and set about pleasuring his lovely Sub. Nipples were pinched, his belly was scratched, and John bit and sucked several more marks into that lovely chest. Sherlock would resemble the sleek spotted jungle cat he moved like when John was through marking him.

If only even one of those marks were permanent.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock’s screams pulled John from the deep sleep that Alphas sank into after breeding. He thrashed awake and found himself in motion, someone dragging him bodily out the door. He could see his Omega on the bed they’d coupled on being forcibly held down by a woman in fancy dress; two Alphas had a hold of John, one his Sire and one unknown to him. Sherlock was screaming and sobbing, attempting to free himself from the woman’s arms, and as John watched in horror another person hurried over with manacles and a long length of chain.

John fought, snarling, growling, biting, and attempting to break any bone that neared his person. He was still hovering in the feral state Alphas remained in for a majority of their Omega’s Heat. The only thing his entire mind recognized was that he needed to get back to his (potentially pregnant) Omega immediately, and not even his Sire was going to stand in his way. Said Sire now pulled him into his grasp and sucked a subdual mark into John’s neck, but there was no calming the desperate Alpha down.

“My Omega! Mine! Mine! Let me go! I’ll kill you! Kill! Miiiiiiine!” John hardly recognized his voice, though whether it was the days of sex and little food or drink, or the agony of separation he hardly knew and didn’t speculate.

Still, he was outnumbered, especially when several Betas joined in the attempts to haul him out the door. They got him down and into a car, which John had never ridden in before in his life, but he was hardly in a place to admire it now. Handcuffs were snapped onto his wrists and ankles, lashing them together via a short chain that required he remain sitting or bend over awkwardly. He tugged at it the entire ride back to his families flat, trying to bite anyone who came within reach. His father continued to pull his head harshly back by the hair whenever John attempted to chew on the handcuffs, shouting at him that he’d break his teeth, but John was unrelenting in his need to escape.

“Help me get him upstairs. His mother may calm him,” John heard his sire demand, and the car was vacated as the two Alphas and the single Beta male who had made the trip with him dragged him kicking and screaming up two flights of stairs.

“I’ve never heard of studs becoming this frantic!” The unknown Alpha shouted.

“This is bad, Mr. Holmes. We should take him back. Your son and mine may very well be Perfect Matches,” John’s father shouted over his cries.

“He. Is. Mine!” John screamed giving the Beta a sound kick in the face. The man toppled down the stairs and John was temporarily freed as they went after him in concern, but he only succeeded in rolling ass over tit down the stairs after the three men when his restraints tangled.

The Beta was unharmed enough to continue, it seemed, and they caught him up once more, dragging him by the arms alone for the last flight of stairs. John kicked and thrashed, but it was of no use. Finally, John was tossed into his own room and his mother appeared, wrapping her arms around him and soothing him with her voice. The feral mind vanished in the face of _warmth, safety, food_ that his mother still represented in her grown cubs mind.

“Mum! My Omega! They took my Omega! Why! _Why!”_ John was on the floor in her arms, rocking back and forth and sobbing into her bosom as she stroked his hair and shushed him lovingly. He could feel her tears dropping onto the back of his head, but her sharing his pain was of little comfort to him.

His bedroom door shut, but it barely muffled the shouting match going on outside it: something about money and extenuating circumstances. John couldn’t focus. His mind was shattered and kept going round and round.

Sherlock was his. Sherlock was his Omega. Sherlock was his possibly _pregnant_ Omega. Sherlock needed him. Sherlock was gone. Sherlock had to be found.

Had he done something wrong? Had he hurt him during breeding? Had Sherlock rejected him?

Sherlock’s arms reaching out for him in the night, whimpering for more, begging John to take him. Sherlock’s arms held up towards him, becoming further and further away as he screamed and cried out his Alphas name.

Sherlock was his. Sherlock was his Omega. Sherlock was…

Round and round and then John was retching, his body arching and heaving and it _hurt_ his raw throat. Someone petted the back of his head and his overwhelmed senses thought _Sherlock_ , but then his sense of smell came back when the retching stopped and he realized it was his mother still. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. His Omega was supposed to take care of him after breeding; smother him with love and fill his belly with food and drink while bathing him. It was part of the bonding process; the bonding process he had been denied to even begin when his father had placed fang blocks in his mouth.

John reached into his mouth and pulled at them now, frantic to remove the offending objects so he could claim his Omega the second he got back to him, but his mother held him off and he found his increasingly weakening body tied down to a bed. Water was poured down his parched throat, bread gently fed to him, and he fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams in which he chased a tall white doe through the woods in Dublin. He was desperate to catch the thin creature before it broke it’s thin legs on the bogs up ahead, but he never got close enough and just as he was about to break through the last of the forest he heard her scream in pain.

Consciousness. Consciousness and an ache unlike anything he had ever known before. His chest felt as though it had been smashed beneath a boulder. He _needed_ his Omega. He needed to be cared for and love and to love in return. He needed to feel those thin, graceful arms wrapped around him in tender supplication, those full lips on his own, those mesmerizing eyes looking into his as though he were the only Alpha in existence. His mother soothed his forehead with a cold flannel, but it gave him no comfort. He sobbed and demanded release from his bonds, but none came.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

John awoke once more, but this time he was more himself. The chains had been removed and he slept naked on his bed in the chill of his room. It was late at night and John was shivering, though not from the cold. He no longer smelled of his Omega and sex, which meant his mother must have cleaned him up. It should have been humiliating, but it only angered him more. His parents had betrayed him. They had torn him from his Omega and removed his very scent from his body as though erasing the last traces of their mating would release John from the hold the beautiful man had over him.

John scrambled from the bed and threw clothes and a few odds and ends into his hiking pack. Last he dug up the few sovereigns he had managed to keep hidden from his father and slid them into his money purse, which he fastened securely to his person and tucked into a pocket once he had donned a suitable outfit. John glanced out the window, but found it impossible to scale safely. He had to escape from here uninjured or he would never be of any use to his Omega.

With the image of Sherlock soundly in his mind John grabbed a cricket bat from the corner, opened the door a crack, and found his father sitting alone in the parlor smoking a pipe and reading a journal by lamplight. John slid to the ground, and edged out the door. When he was certain he was close enough he gave the man a hard crack upside his head and then bolted for the exit as he toppled to the ground. He paid no head to his sire’s possible injuries.

John tried to hail a hansom, but there was no luck this time of night so he fled the distance on foot. He didn’t reach the Holmes’ fancy townhouse until well past dawn, and he knew it was a terrible time to raid a veritable fortress. John edged around the gates; searching out the guards he knew they’d have hired to deal with him. He intended to memorize their movements, but saw they were close to the house instead of at the gates. He slipped over it and into the bushes on the other side, waited for the next opening, and hurried forward. A rock from the garden eased his entry and he slid through the broken window like a snake.

The hall he found himself in was far from Sherlock’s wing, so he slipped down in and made his way to the staircase. Voices filled the hallway and he realized his parents were in the entryway arguing with the Holmes’.

“We had an agreement, Watson!” Mr. Holmes snapped, “Your son is a stud, not a suitor. Your family doesn’t produce enough viable offspring to enter into an arrangement with ours. We require _heirs_ , not burdens to the household. If your son has indeed sired a potential Alpha then we will offer him stud rights again, but he will _not_ be marrying in! We will keep the Holmes name going even if it means our son remains unmarried and relies on studs for the remainder of his life.”

“So that’s your aim? Your precious family name is more important than your son finding his Perfect Match? Do you have any idea how _rare_ a Perfect Match is?” Hamish argued.

“Utter poppycock,” Mrs. Holmes laughed, “My husband and I aren’t a Match and we are perfectly happy with each other! Sherlock’s needs will be met whenever he goes on Heat, though I doubt by your disobedient son since we can’t get you to obey the letter of our first agreement!”

“You can’t do this!” Nancy pleaded, “They love each other!”

“They’ve fucked each other. They’re emotional children who think it’s made them adults. They’ll get over it,” Mr. Holmes snarled.

John took advantage of the disagreement to make his way towards the smell of food, hoping the kitchens would have a stairway, but the fact they were producing food meant he’d probably be caught there, too. He slipped in unnoticed, but didn’t make it to the stairs the same way. Someone saw him and gave a shout and John was up and running despite a tomato whizzing past his head.

John made it to the top of the narrow stares, sniffed the air, and bolted for Sherlock’s scent. The bathroom he must have frequented was what he found first, but his bedroom wasn’t far from that. John threw open the door and saw his Omega stretched out on a pile of pillows and stuffed animals, looking like a young prince in an Arabian picture. His Omega was _nesting!_

Sherlock gave a relieved cry at the sight of John and clamored off his nest, heading towards him with a chain around his ankle. They met in the middle of the room, teeth and tongues and hands clenching each other hungrily, but were drug apart before John could start prying at those damned caps again. John struck out at the man who had pulled him out past the reach of his lover’s chain and quite soundly broke his neck. The man crumpled to the floor, one hand twitching, and John growled at the rest of the kitchen staff who backed away in terror. Mr. Holmes and Hamish came through the door then, tackling John and once more bearing him away.

Sherlock’s sobbing pleas would echo in his mind for days.

XXXXXXXXXX

John’s next bout at freedom came when his parents went out to dinner one night some weeks later. He was left in his sister’s care under the implicit instructions she not go close to him. John now wore a similar ankle manacle to Sherlock, which was attached to the ancient radiator under his window. John had tried to break the pipe, but it proved stronger than he.

“Harry, let me out. Please let me out. I’m going mad. I’ll die without him! Don’t you love me? I’m your brother!”

“Mum said you won’t die because you haven’t bonded,” Harry replied from the door.

The teen was nervous and shy; she’d had her first mock heat two months ago and had been lucky enough to not have another since she still hadn’t found a bondmate. Everyone had been shocked when Harry had turned out to be an Omega, especially since she’d shown attachments to Omegas herself up to this point, which had led them to believe she was a Beta. Her parents were studiously ignoring that fact and trying to match her up anyway.

“I will die, Harry, because I will kill myself rather than live without him!” John snapped angrily.

“That’s awfully stupid, you don’t see me freaking out because _I_ don’t get to have an Omega,” Harry pointed out.

“Don’t you even _care_ about me? I need him, Harry! I need him and I need our child! Can you at least _try_ to understand that? He’s carrying my baby and I’ll never see them again,” John’s voice cracked.

Harry stepped closer, but was still out of John’s reach. He wasn’t even sure she had the key.

“Do you really love him? You just had sex. I’ve had it with Omegas and it doesn’t make me love them.”

“I…” John shook his head, pushing _that_ image into the ‘kill it with fire’ part of his brain, “No, it’s more than that. We’re a Perfect Match, Harry. We were meant for each other. We… we complete each other.”

Harry sighed and stared out John’s window, worrying her lip as she thought about the pros and cons of releasing him. John waited with baited breath.

“If I ever end up with an Alpha, I hope he’s as devoted to me as you are to this Sherlock fellow,” Harry spoke softly.

“I hope you end up with an Omega who is this devoted to you, and when the day comes you need me to get you to her I’ll be there for you, Harry.”

Harry nodded quietly, then stepped forward and tossed the key at John’s feet. Then she crossed to his door, placed her leg in the doorjamb, and slammed it firmly shut on her calf. She didn’t even make a sound, but John shouted in alarm.

“I have to look like I put up a fight. I’m not going to take a _punishment_ for you,” Harry stated blandly, then limped out into the sitting room to flop down into a chair.

John undid his manacles, grabbed the same backpack from last time – his father had taken the money and lost it already – and headed out the door.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Holmes’ townhouse was empty.


	5. Chapter 5

John had never been prone to fits of temper despite his Alpha status, but once he realized his precious Sherlock was out of his reach once more he destroyed everything in reach; statues, furniture, vases, he even shredded several dust cloths and ripped up a section of carpeting.

John had no intention of returning home and to captivity; he would find his Omega and his unborn child and bond with them. Instead, John turned to his mates from Uni and quickly located Mike Stamford. Stamford was a lawyer who had graduated a year ahead of John. He took one look at the devastated look on John’s face, hurried him in, and handed him a glass of whisky.

Stamford had done well for himself since Uni, having proven himself and joined his father’s company. He now had his own flat around the corner from his father’s practice and his pick of cases, though he was still being micromanaged by his father and the gentleman’s lead attorney. He listened to John’s story with a look of horror on his face, comforted the young man as he wept, and assured him they would get his Omega back.

“You’ve got rights, John,” Stamford scowled, standing and gesturing with courtroom flair, “As a Perfect Match you two _can’t_ be kept apart; that’s likely why they fled, hoping distance would deter you. You’ll probably still have to pay a bride price for him, but we’ll take them to court and get it lowered and an interest free payment arrangement set up. Hell, with their behavior I’ll get it thrown out!”

“I doubt we’ll manage the latter seeing as how I vandalized their home,” John stated with a sigh.

“John,” Stamford said with a laugh and a shake of his head, “You’re not even listening to yourself, are you? You told me a moment ago you killed a man pursuing your lover, but you’re worried about a few knick-knacks?”

John blinked and then his eyes widened in alarm: “I didn’t think… it felt _right_ … my god, did I just say that?”

John staggered to his feet, horrified by his own words and flew to the door intending to get some fresh air to clear his head, but Stamford was calling him back.

“John! John! Listen to me! It felt right for a reason! Your instincts were controlling you. The Holmes’ have _no case_ against you. The bride-price is just a way to compensate the family, but the courts will likely throw that out since they snatched him away from you; any damages and deaths that occur in your pursuit of him are on their heads for trying to keep an Omega from an Alpha who has a right to him. Mr. Holmes may well serve jail time!”

“Then… then I could have just gone in there with a gun, shot them all, and taken him?” John stammered, then clapped his hand over his mouth in horror.

Stamford nodded gravely, “Now you know why the law favors simply handing said Omega over. Most likely your high moral attitude, which I recall from University, is the only thing that kept you from taking that course sooner. Now, of course, it’s an option because they’ve taken him even farther from you.

“John,” Stamford continued, picking his goblet up and giving John a considering look, “I want you to think this through. You can get him faster by storming their location with a few good men at your side and snatching him up, but he might be hurt or even killed; most certainly there would be deaths on both sides. Or we can go the legal route. It’s your choice, but I’m with you either way.”

John leaned back and rubbed his hands across his face.

“He’s likely pregnant, Mike,” John’s voice cracked, “What would be worse for him? Being snatched from his mother’s side or being drug through a trial?”

“You’re the doctor, you tell me.”

“The longer it takes the harder it will be on him. Right now the cub is small and barely draining his body; later he will be weak, tired, ill, and the risk of loosing the child due to upset will rise.”

“So we storm their chateau then?”

“Chateau?”

“I often forget you made your way through Uni on loans instead of your parents money,” Stamford chuckled, “You are lost in our society, John. The Holmes’ have a French chateau in the country. I don’t know it’s exact location, but I can easily find it out for you. That is likely where they have gone; to their seat of power where their neighbors are influential, perhaps indebted, and most certainly _armed_ all around them.”

John groaned, but at least he knew where his lost lover had likely gone.

Stamford got out pen and paper and they wrote out several missives to John’s friends to ask for their aid: whether in the form of arms or finances. Stamford also started recording the details of John’s tale for court, as this would eventually end up there anyway. Finally they were both too tired to continue, so they posted the letters and placed them in the box for the morning post. John retired to Stamford’s couch and Stamford bid him goodnight before heading to his own room.

The next morning they visited those of John’s comrades who were more local and collected a small group to start planning the assault. By the time they were fully prepared John had heard back from those closer to the Holmes’ residence. Most of those were denials, and John feared the Holmes’ had been much too forewarned.

“We knew that would happen, John. They weren’t going to drop their guard anyway. We’ll move the date up a bit. We should go tonight.”

John nodded and stepped off to route out the lads.

Stamford’s own car was too small for the lot of them, so they rented an open wagon and two horses, hurrying them along during the night to avoid London traffic. Once they reached the countryside they rested and watered the horses before continuing on with just five hours sleep. The closer they got the more anxious John got, and the gentlemen with him picked up on that and shifted miserably on the blankets they were sitting on.

Finally they saw the tips of the roofs adorned with sharp peaks and decorative cornices. John’s breath caught in his throat and a few of the lads laughed a bit.

“Damn, John, why didn’t you tell us we were storming The Queen’s House?”

“Think it has a moat?”

“Buckingham House has been moved? These Holmes’ must be warlocks as well as Omega snatchers!”

“Do we steal the silk pillows he’ll be sitting on, too?”

“Sure you don’t want to court him properly? These are in-laws you might want to stay on the good side of!”

“Think we’ll be fighting Sir Arthur? Or just the Knights of the Round Table?”

The comments eventually fizzled out when John neither laughed nor responded to them. He simply stared ahead and _ached_ for his Sherlock. He could still picture him perfectly; those full lips, wild dark curls, sage green eyes always studying everything, the high cheekbones, willowy body, that pert round arse…

John swallowed a groan and shifted a bit as he planned it all out. He would get past everyone as quickly as he could while his friends distracted the guards. He’d get to his Omega, sink his teeth in, and then carry him out. If Sherlock’s teeth were capped still then he had a knife with him he could use to draw his own blood. Sherlock would just have to bite a bit harder than usual; so long as blood and saliva mixed and a scar was left the bondmark would be created.

A single Omega stood in the middle of the road before the crest of the final hill. He stood with legs slightly apart, shoulders squared, head high, and a brolly pressed into the ground dead center in front of him, denting in his full, dark brown skirt. He had auburn hair, pale skin, and a smirk that could only belong to a Holmes despite the lack of resemblance to Sherlock. John called for the others to stay back and stepped forward.

“Are you some sort of champion?” John asked with a laugh.

“Of a sort, though not for who you might think,” The posh dandy informed him.

“You’re here on Sherlock’s behalf?”

“In a way. You don’t seem very afraid.”

“You don’t seem frightening.”

The man laughed, shifting to lean to one side and crossing a leg at the ankle, his umbrella tapped the ground as he shifted it. The collar of his blouse was high and ended with a proper collar and tag, one studded with diamonds to show his wealth.

“Yes, the bravery of the _Alpha_. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don’t you think?”

“Where’s Sherlock?”

“In the chateau behind me, of course.”

“Who are you?”

“An interested party.”

“Interested in Sherlock? Why?”

“Do you plan to bond with him tonight?”

“I could be wrong, but I think that’s none of your business.”

“It could be.”

“It _really_ couldn’t.”

“If you do decide to bond with him, I would be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to… ease your way. However, it would be under the condition that he did _not_ bond with you in return.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not a wealthy man and Sherlock is accustomed to a certain lifestyle.”

“Why should I postpone him bonding with me?”

“In addition,” The Omega stated, ignoring his question, “I require information to be provided to me when each sum is dropped off to you. Nothing indiscreet, nothing you’d feel uncomfortable with. Just… tell me what he’s up to.”

The word ‘creepy’ came to mind. He had been under the assumption thus far that this was the illusive Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s older brother, but now he was not so sure. Who was this man who was interested in the private life of an Omega?

“Why?” John settled on.

“I worry about him, _constantly_.”

“Then you ought to be worrying about his unborn child,” John replied smoothly, “And helping him get back to his Alpha where he and the cub can be properly cared for.”

“You seem awfully certain that he’s in a family way,” The Dandy smirked.

“You seem awfully intent on delaying me. Move.”

“You haven’t told me if you will accept my offer.”

“Not interested. Move. Or I’ll make you.”

“Sherlock?” The Dandy called out, “Are you absolutely certain this brute is the one you want? He lacks a certain… homme ingénieux.”

“Sherlock?” John called out casting his eyes about.

Sherlock slipped from the bushes beside the road and John bolted for him.

“Stop!” Sherlock called, holding a hand up, “There’s a reason I had him detain you.”

“What do you mean, stop? We just have to bond, and you’re _mine_.”

“No, I won’t be. They’ll tie us up in legal battles until you die then bond me to someone else before the baby is born, betting on it keeping me alive. They’ll do _anything_ to keep us apart now they’ve found someone else for me.”

John glanced at the Dandy, but he only smirked. He was an Omega, so it couldn’t be him.

“Who? I’ll kill him,” John snarled.

“Some bitch named Sally Donovan, but that isn’t important right now. She isn’t the main threat. You have to bite a bondmark into me, but I _can’t_ bite one into you. That’s why Mycroft is here. He’s to stop me when my instincts demand I do.”

“Why?” John asked in horror. Was this rejection or acceptance?

“So that I become ill and you don’t. My parents regret my involvement with you and don’t care if I lose the baby, but if my life is truly in danger they’ll relent. If I bite a mark into you, you’ll sicken as well. This way they won’t have a choice; with you still alive and well, making me unable to bond with anyone else, they’ll have to hand me over before I die.”

“And risk our child in the mean time? No!”

“John, I don’t like it either, but…”

John didn’t let him finish. He swooped in and snatched his Omega up, darting into the bramble on the edge of the road and ducking behind a tree before he dug his extended canines into his lover’s neck. Sherlock moaned and writhed against him for a moment before latching onto his neck as well. Hands grappled with John, but he shoved them aside and sealed the mark with a firm lick. Sherlock stayed sucking at his neck for a moment longer before sighing in relief, releasing his flesh, and going limp against him.

“You’ve damned you both!” Mycroft snarled.

“We’re leaving. Go home to your Alpha, Mycroft,” John snapped, then scooped his ragdoll husband up into his arms.

An explosion echoed through the woods and when John got back to the carriage it was burning. Not everyone had made it off.

["Helen Of Troy" Poem by Edgar Lee Masters](http://www.readbookonline.net/readOnLine/60324/)


	6. Chapter 6

John ran. Sherlock was his only priority, even though his eyes stung for his abandoned friends. He _had_ to get his pregnant Omega to safety, under any cost. He could hear feet trampling the ground behind him and several loud shouts. He dodged and weaved as bullets rang out. If he could just get to someplace _safe_ he would make sure his lover was never allowed near these maniacs again. Who in their right mind kept an Omega from their Perfect Match? Who would _shoot_ at someone carrying a pregnant Omega? They’d be hung on principal!

Behind him he could hear Mycroft Holmes shouting for them to leave John alive, that they had bonded already, but he doubted anyone would obey the Omega.

John felt a sudden shove on his left shoulder and toppled, his dominant hand inexplicably useless when he tried to raise it to stop his fall.

“Oh, god, John! John!” Sherlock stammered in alarm.

John struggled to rise, his eyes roaming over his Omega to check for injuries, but the young man looked pale and terrified as he sat on the ground where they’d fallen. He was clutching at John frantically, but the footsteps were growing closer.

“What is it?” John asked, “Where are you hurt?”

“You’re bleeding!” Sherlock gasped in horror.

John followed Sherlock’s eyes and felt the agonizing pain the second his adrenalin-flooded brain processed what he was seeing. He’d been shot. They’d _shot_ him while carrying an _Omega_.

“Run! Quickly!” John shouted, staggering to his feet despite the earth moving beneath them.

He was tackled from behind, knocked over Sherlock, who was curled protectively around his abdomen when John got another glance. John fought like a wild thing, his pain once more suppressed by the need to get to and protect his Omega, but there were too many of them. They dragged off a swearing and squirming Sherlock while they beat John mercilessly. The last thing he saw before a shoe to his skull knocked him out was Sherlock’s outstretched arms as his father dragged him away.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

John rolled his head to the side and was violently ill into a quickly provided bowl. A cool hand caressed his forehead and a flannel cleaned his mouth before he was gently pressed back down into the bed sheets. John groaned and whimpered piteously.

“Hush, John,” His mother’s voice soothed, “You’re concussed, have several broken ribs, and a rather unsightly bullet wound. Your father’s been treating you, but it’s rather awful.”

“Thanks, mum,” John tried for a weak smile, but found himself gagging on bile again. She helped him turn his head this time and he retched the bowl again. Once more she cleaned him up and restored him to some semblance of humanity.

“Sherlock?” John asked weakly.

“Gone, dear. They’ve hidden him away in that huge ugly house of theirs. Your friend Stamford is trying everything he can to let you see him, but they’ve refused the law.”

“Stamford survived?”

“One of the few.”

“He told me they can’t keep us apart. It’s against the law.”

“Yes, but the Holmes’ seem to think they’re above the law, and it doesn’t help their eldest is married to a Detective Inspector. They’ve locked their house down, hired mercenaries, and have failed to show for court once already today. He fears they’ll simply stay in there, breeding Sherlock to the Alpha mercenaries they hired until they think they have an Alpha they can claim as an heir.”

“They can’t do that! We’re bonded! He’ll die!” John thrashed weakly in the bed, but his mother’s hand held him down. He hadn’t the strength to fight.

“That’s why Stamford is trying to get them to at least let you _see_ Sherlock. They don’t seem to care that it will kill him eventually. They’re going to try to keep him pregnant so his body doesn’t have a chance to shut down, it will fight to stay alive so long as he’s carrying, but if he doesn’t go into heat quickly enough between pregnancies…”

John closed his eyes in horror, sobbing brokenly and not caring that he looked or sounded like a child. His mother held him gently in her arms and petted the uninjured side of his head.

“Oh, my poor baby boy,” She sighed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two days later – as far as John could tell – Stamford showed up looking triumphant.

“He’s free?” John asked hopefully, struggling to sit up and just managing it.

Stamford’s face fell a bit and he shook his head in the negative. John choked on a sob and he closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths until he could open them without weeping. Stamford took a seat by his bedside and clasped his hand supportively.

“I’ve gotten them to make an allowance. Apparently it’s too early in the pregnancy – if he’s even pregnant, though they think he is – for him to be separated from you. He’s already falling ill and they don’t think he’ll survive much longer. There’s a rubbish chute outside the kitchen that was once used for a compost heap. They’ve cleaned it out, and the surrounding area. They’ll allow you two to reach through it and hold hands. That’s it. Once a day.”

John didn’t know how to feel. He wanted to be grateful for that small amount of contact with his bondmate, and just the idea of touching Sherlock’s _hand_ was brilliant after so long apart, but he was still angry and hurt by their denial.

“How are they treating him?” John asked, broaching his biggest concern, “Is it awful?”

“I only saw him briefly, but he was in comfortable straits. They aren’t abusing him, if that’s your concern; at least not in any way I can see besides keeping you two apart. The courts are furious at their refusal of the law. They’re talking about bringing in the army to quell them, stating their actions as treason since they’ve hired outside forces and turned away the legal system. They’re acting like they’re a law unto their own, and the Queen won’t stand for that, but it will take time to muster such extreme forces.

“Lestrade,” Stamford continued, “that’s Sherlock’s brother’s bondmate, has gone against his bondmate’s wishes and isolated them both from the rest of the Holmes’. He’s denounced them and is supporting you. Do you know him?”

“No, but I met his bondmate. I don’t think he liked me much.”

“Perhaps he’s just of outstanding character then,” Stamford stated with a shrug.

John nodded his head, grateful for any allies that came his way, then broached a subject his mother and father hadn’t been able to apprise him of.

“Who survived?”

“Me and two others: Tim Wuthers and Chelsea Smith.”

“That’s… that’s it?” John asked in horror. All his friends? Dead?

“They threw a bloody bundle of dynamite on us! We tried to clear out the wagon in time, but there just wasn’t any.”

John closed his eyes and leaned back against his pillows, trying hard to contain his grief. He had to keep himself together as much as possible.

“When can I see Sherlock?”

“I’m to take you now. We’ve a chair downstairs rigged with wagon wheels. It’s not comfortable, but it will make it through their garden.”

“I don’t need comfort, I need my Omega.”

“I am trying,” Stamford comforted, an apologetic look on his face.

“I know. Thank you. Really. I know how much effort you’re putting into this, just… don’t give up. Please.”

XXX

The rubbish chute was spotlessly clean, one would think it had never been used, but then John wasn’t shocked considering who was on the other side. There was no handle on this end, but a string had been rigged and John was able to tug on it and lift the thin iron cover – resembling a large mail slot - up. He looked up the slightly sloped chute and saw the other end pulled down. The opening was rectangular, about six inches by one foot, and about ten inches deep- though the door opening inward and down on Sherlock’s side added another six inches. They could hold hands, but not much more.

Sherlock’s pale face appeared and he thrust his hand down the chute. John clasped it tightly in both of his drawing him gently closer, letting the lid rest on his head, and leaned forward to press kisses to those fingertips. He heard Sherlock sob, and then ask as to his health.

“Injured and angry. What about you? Our cub?”

“They still aren’t sure I’m pregnant but… I’m sure. Yes, we’re fine. I still _feel_ our cub.”

John pressed more kisses to his fingertips, nipping the tips and running his tongue between the webbing. Sherlock moaned and shifted a bit, leaning forward as best he could with the chute door in his way. He got another hand down the damnable thing and John reached up to clasp it, but Sherlock tugged it towards him instead of letting John have it. It was awkward, but they managed. Once Sherlock has secured his hand he began sucking on the fingertips. John was panting in a matter of seconds, their breath’s echoing in the tunnel, and he would have given anything to have Sherlock in his arms at that moment.

John kissed and licked Sherlock’s palm, nipped at the heel, and sank his teeth into the back of his hand, sucking hard to mark his territory. Sherlock moaned, his head clanging against the top of the chute as he rested it there a bit forcefully, and then he mimicked John’s actions. John was in pain from the angle his erection was forced at in the makeshift wheelchair, but he couldn’t bring himself to release a hand to adjust it. Sherlock was sucking on three of his fingers now and John had gone back to fucking between his with his tongue, when someone suddenly caught Sherlock beneath the arms and hauled him away. John shouted in outrage, pulling himself partway out of the chair and trying to crawl through the tiny space. He would never fit, his head couldn’t even make it through, and Stamford and his father pulled him back and gently restrained him. John screamed in frustration, pounding his hand against the wheelchair, and then brought them both quickly to his face to breathe in his Omega’s scent.

John stared at the mark on the back of his hand the entire way home.


	7. Chapter 7

Two months. Two months of torturous hand holding and kissing. Two months of lying in his bed with his hand to his face, breathing in Sherlock’s scent from said hand and stroking himself to completion. Two months of weeping afterwards as his heart ached for his lost lover.

One months ago he’d caught a whiff of Sherlock’s pregnancy scent through the chute and had been so frantic to get to him that he’d ripped the metal door off and broken all the nails on one hand clawing at the surrounding stone wall. The next day Sherlock had kissed the tips of his shredded fingers and whispered that he couldn’t wait to hold their child.

“I’ve never cared for anyone besides myself before,” Sherlock explained, “It’s like my mind has been expanded.”

He’d _thanked_ John for giving him a cub, and it had nearly undone him. He’d gone into horrible topdrop and hadn’t been able to see Sherlock the next day. When he’d been able to get back to him, now guilt ridden for leaving him for a day, Sherlock had told him he’d been crying since he’d last seen him.

“Pregnancy hormones,” Sherlock explained proudly, “I’ve got _pregnancy_ hormones.”

“I noticed. I can smell them, love.”

“What do they smell like?” Sherlock asked. He was always curious and John loved his brilliant mind.

“Like mint leaves and fresh apples.”

“Apple mint? That doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“It’s lovely. I’ve been drinking mint tea and eating apples all day just to feel like you’re near.”

“Sentiment,” Sherlock snorted, and kissed his fingertips again.

Then he was gone. John arrived in the garden after a month of torturous pregnancy scent, hired guards on either side, and Sherlock didn’t show. He shouted into the chute and pushed at the other end so it banged loudly but no one came. The guard looked confused and shouted for another, who went inside to check on the situation. He came out looking pale and whispered to the first guard. Just like that the entire yard emptied out. One guard called to another, some sort of code word, and the whole group of militiamen took off.

John stood there a moment, wondering if the Queen’s men had arrived and the cowards had fled before a fight could break out, but last he’d heard Stamford still hadn’t gotten them to show up; something about the law being upheld locally before the army would get involved and martial law being used as a last resort. Finally, John realized the door was _unguarded_ and bolted for it. It wasn’t even locked. He just walked right in and started looking around. He thought he’d have to sneak around, but the first person he came across was decidedly dead. It was a servant girl, a beta, and her throat had been slit.

John ran after that, bolting from room to room in fear and horror. Most rooms were empty, but he eventually located the entire kitchen staff – locked into the stillroom and gassed to death – but John backed out of that room quickly and shut the door behind him. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were dead at their dinner table, their contorted bodies showing signs of convulsions. They’d asphyxiated, and John’s best guess was poison.

The butler’s head had been beaten in outside of a room that smelled strongly of Sherlock. John braced himself, pain aching through his chest, and pushed the doors open. If Sherlock were dead then John wanted to lie by his side while he expired as well. He had a knife with him, hidden in his boot. He’d slit his thigh, as that was by far the easiest artery to reach, and hold his love and their unborn child while he waited for death to claim him.

The room was silent and cold, the curtains letting in a breeze. John crossed to them quickly, glancing out and hoping his love had escaped onto a ledge to hide from the murderer, but there was no sign of him and no ledge to hide on. It was a straight drop onto a cobbled path below. John turned and began searching the room. He glanced in the closet, tore up the bedding, and flipped the mattress over. That was when his eyes caught sight of a thick chain, attached to the headboard and disappearing under the bed. John dropped to his knees and was met by a pair of shining eyes.

“John?” Sherlock whispered in shock.

“Oh, god, love! Quickly! Come out of there!” John hissed back, “We have to escape before the killer comes back!”

“My parents?”

“Quickly!”

Sherlock shimmied out and John clutched him close for a moment, his eyes still casting about the room as he brought Sherlock close and sniffed him for injuries. He ran a hand across his lover’s belly, but there was no sign of their tiny child just yet. John helped Sherlock to his feet and scowled at the manacle around his ankle.

“The butler has a key, but he could be anywhere,” Sherlock whispered.

“No! He’s just outside!”

“He… I heard him scream… So I hid…”

John winced, “I’m sorry love, he’s dead, but you can’t mourn just yet. Hold it together and let me get us all safely out of here. Think of our cub. Just focus on this.”

John pressed his hand over Sherlock’s abdomen again and then hurried out, glancing both directions before dropping down and pulling the key ring off of the butler’s belt. He had been struck from behind. He must have been trying to get to Sherlock to protect him. John gently closed the brave souls eyes and then slipped back into the room. Sherlock was pulling a dress over his head and John helped him tug it the rest of the way and buttoned just the top three buttons in a hurry. He unclipped Sherlock’s ankle from the manacle and touched the dress lovingly while Sherlock stuffed his feet into boots without bothering to do all the laces. The grey dress was the style worn by pregnant Omegas with a high waistline to give room for a growing belly- old fashioned by current standards- and John wanted to memorize this moment, but had no time to do so.

John kept Sherlock close the entire way out, sticking to following the path he’d followed in, keeping his eyes from the dining hall, and covering Sherlock’s mouth and nose with a handkerchief as they passed the stillroom. He didn’t breathe easier even as he made it to the garden path, not even when he reached the side door they always let him through. When he climbed up into his father’s cart and called for him to drive off he still remained tense, pressing Sherlock down to the floor rather than letting him sit up on the bench. When at least a mile had passed John breathed a sigh of relief and helped Sherlock rise onto a bench.

Then they embraced, first just holding each other tightly while they breathed in each other’s scent, then kissing passionately and tearing at each other’s clothes. John and his family had been staying at a kind farmer’s house a few miles from the Holmes’ chateau with the entire family working the farm to pay their upkeep. John’s father didn’t return there. Instead he pulled the wagon onto a little used side road and parked it there. He jumped down, untied the bored farm horse, and mounted the brute bareback. Hamish headed back towards the road with his pistol drawn while John and Sherlock ravaged each other.

John had his lovely Omega naked and stretched out on the hard wooden seats. He’d gently laid their clothing down as padding for his thin lover. He stroked his hands up and down along his ribs, admiring the pale white skin, and watching him pant a bit under John’s caress.

“So beautiful. So delicate. I’ll never let anyone take you from me again. I’m going to take you home and have my mother stuff you full of food to fatten you up, you skinny thing.”

Sherlock scoffed, “I’ll be fat enough with your child soon enough, what’s the hurry?”

“You need meat on your bones to keep our child warm,” John chuckled, then leaned down and ran his tongue along the underside of Sherlock’s erection to keep him from arguing back.

It worked. Sherlock panted and moaned and wriggled eagerly. He threw a leg over the back of the cart and let the other fall off the edge as John stretched out over his body. Then Sherlock was pushing at his chest and John sat back in confusion. He didn’t want to make love? After all this time apart?

Sherlock gave John a positively _naughty_ look and hopped into his lap to straddle his thighs. John’s eyes must have been as big as saucers because his fresh Omega laughed at him before capturing his lips in a kiss. John’s fingers slipped around and gently caressed his Omega’s opening, groaning when he found him already wet and starting to tent. John pressed kisses to Sherlock’s gorgeous smooth chest and ran his tongue over his nipples until they pebbled up for him to suck and bite at. Sherlock jumped and gasped and moaned; John used the distraction to slip a finger inside of him. He needn’t have bothered. Sherlock was dripping and fully ready for two fingers. John obliged and quickly stretched his love. When he could fit four fingers inside of him and slipped them out.

“How _dare_ you stop?!” Sherlock’s head, which had been pillowed demurely on John’s shoulder, snapped up and he gave John an outraged look.

John raised an eyebrow in amusement, “Oh? Not even to give you this instead?”

John lifted Sherlock’s hips and teased his entrance with the blunt head of his cock. Sherlock’s eyes widened in apparent fear and John felt a pang of guilt. The only time Sherlock had ever been penetrated was during heat, and heat took away any fear or nervousness you might otherwise feel.

“It’s okay my love,” John soothed, starting to slide him down when he didn’t squirm away, “It will burn a bit, but then you’ll love it, I promise.”

Sherlock held his breath, but he didn’t tense up his muscles and for that John was grateful as he lowered his pretty Omega down on his long, thick, Alpha cock. Sherlock didn’t let out the breath he was holding until he was fully seated on John’s cock, and then he drew it back in again sharply.

“Ohhhh!” Sherlock breathed back out, eyes wide and pupils blown.

“Good?”

“It’s… I need to… John!” Sherlock sounded panicked and began to squirm a bit.

John grasped his hips and lifted him a few inches before dropping him back down again. Sherlock’s head snapped back and he gasped again. John lifted him higher and thrust him back down again and Sherlock moaned in obvious bliss. Faster and farther they went, and soon Sherlock had figured out how to use his legs and was riding John’s cock, lifting himself until only the tip remained before clenching and dragging himself back down.

It was the clenching that overwhelmed John, whose knot was swelling already. He took hold of Sherlock’s hips, wrestling control from the snarling Omega, and buried his knot tightly inside of him.

“Oh!” Sherlock shouted, “Oh my… what… what _is_ that?!”

“Knot,” John gasped, unable to elaborate and unsure how Sherlock couldn’t know.

Sherlock’s eyes rolled into the back of his head without warning and he came forcefully across John’s chest and stomach. John cried out and emptied himself into Sherlock, his hips twitching feebly as he was overwhelmed with pleasure. He got a rhythm going afterward, though, and Sherlock moaned in bliss and eagerly gyrated into him as well.

“Oh, gods, I didn’t… couldn’t… oh, gods, John!” Sherlock babbled helplessly, his body frantically chasing a second orgasm.

“Mmmmnnnn yeeesssss, oh, gods, you’re gorgeous! That’s it! Yes! Ride my cock you brilliant man!”

Sherlock shouted and climaxed again, going limp across John’s shoulder.

 _Well… can’t have that_.

John’s hand came down on one of those shapely orbs and Sherlock shouted, his head jerking upright and a look of shock crossing his face. John smiled and cracked his other hand across the other cheek. Sherlock gasped and was soon writhing eagerly on John’s member once more as he bit, scratched, and spanked his beautiful Omega. Sherlock was getting close, he could see it in the way his eyes glazed over, so John gripped both arse cheeks and dug his nails in forcefully. Sherlock screamed, his orgasm clenching around John’s knot until it pulled his climax from him as well. John could see his mouth gape and his eyes stared sightlessly into an abyss of pleasure.

_I did it! He’s in subspace! I put a Submissive in subspace!_

John moaned through his last orgasm, feeling his knot pulse hotly, and then leaned back. He gently coaxed the still twitching Omega into leaning forward, and once he found his body supported he went completely limp. John stroked a hand from the back of his head down to his tailbone and then moved back to the top to repeat the motion. Sherlock was trembling a bit, but it didn’t seem to be from cold. Sometimes Subs had strange reactions to subspace. John himself was trembling a bit, his arms achy and his head pounding. He felt like a _king_. Once his knot relaxed enough to ease Sherlock off of him he gently lowered the dazed Sub to the carriage floor between his feet. He knelt there, swaying gently and looking confused.

“Sherlock? Are you alright?”

“I… I…”

“You know I only did that because I love you, don’t you? You weren’t being punished, I was trying to give you _more_ pleasure.”

Sherlock blinked up at him, his eyebrows furrowing a bit in confusion.

“Did I give you pleasure, Sherlock?” John asked, becoming a bit worried.

“Oh, _gods_ , yes,” Sherlock breathed.

Then he fainted.

John was shouting for his father immediately, wrapping his Omega up in his shirt and holding the limp man’s head to his shoulder.

“What is it? What happened?” Hamish asked, climbing quickly into the carriage.

“He fainted!”

Hamish laid Sherlock back on their pile of clothes on the bench and checked his pulse and eyes. Sherlock shivered and woke up again, frowning in confusion at Hamish before glancing at his still naked husband.

“What happened?” Sherlock asked in confusion.

“You fainted,” Hamish supplied, then gave his son an amused smirk, “Have you ever been in subspace before?”

“No, of course not. We’ve been apart, and before was Heat,” Sherlock replied in confusion, “ _That_ was subspace? That was… _intense_.”

“You’ll be fine. We’ll get some water into you soon,” Hamish headed away with a soft smirk and a proud look cast towards his son.

John knelt beside Sherlock on the floor of the carriage and petted the pretty Sub’s hair. Once he was certain Sherlock could safely sit up again he helped the young man dress before dressing himself. Sherlock leaned against him comfortably and soon drifted off to sleep. John’s father hurried back with a flask full of water he’d fetched from a stream.

“I’m going to walk back to the farm and get the women out,” Hamish told John, “Stay here with your Omega, but be ready to go as soon as we get back. We may have to run. The Holmes’ are sure to be hot on our trail.”

“Dad, they’re all dead, someone killed them. I don’t even know whom, but I don’t think it was out of sympathy. Sherlock was hiding under his bed. Dad, he was _chained_ to it. He was defenseless. Gods, if the maniac who massacred his family had found him...”

Hamish looked shocked, “Maybe I should get the constable.”

“I think so. From what Stamford has told me, even if they think it was I they won’t be able to prosecute me because of the Holmes’ actions. I… I haven’t told Sherlock they’re dead. I made sure he didn’t look when we passed the room his parents were in.”

Hamish gave Sherlock’s sleeping form a sad look and passed John the flask.

“The road turns a bit of the way up. I’ll get us back to town and we’ll report it. You better brace him along the way.”

John nodded and shifted to rouse Sherlock as his father lashed the horse back to the wagon and started them moving again. Sherlock was difficult to rouse and whined petulantly, pushing himself firmly against John’s side. Something sharp poked into his hip and he hissed in pain, pulling away from Sherlock and digging a hand into the groggy young man’s pocket. He pulled out a hairpin, twisted and mangled, and stared at it a moment in confusion. When he glanced up at Sherlock his face had gone suddenly blank, as though he were determined to hide something from him.

“Sherlock,” John whispered, “What is this? Is this…”

Sherlock’s eyes traveled from the hairpin to John’s eyes and a slow smile spread across his face. He leaned forward until his lips touched John’s ear and whispered softly into it, his lips caressing the shell in intimate counterpoint to his words.

“Do you want to know how I did it?”


	8. Chapter 8

John’s mind raced and he could see it all played out as Sherlock described it to him. Sherlock picked the lock of his ankle cuff, freeing himself. He lured the entire cooking staff into the stillroom with some wild tale about a food craving while batting those pretty eyes. Once they were in the room searching for the herbs he demanded he threw a jar full of poison onto the floor, slammed the door shut, and blocked it with the nearby butchers block.

Then into the kitchen where he laced his parents dinner with poison and placed it on the serving counter for the butler to pick up. The serving girl surprised him, and he had to quickly silence her, but he was faster and well trained in hand-to-hand combat. He stuffed her body close to the door so anyone entering through the kitchen door would see her first and know there were murders within.

The butler served his parents their last meal, and then went upstairs to serve him without a clue as to what had happened. As he was approaching Sherlock’s room, the young Omega slipped out of a different room behind him and beat him over the head with a chunk of firewood. He burnt that last weapon in his own fireplace back in his room, locked himself back into his cuffs, and hid beneath the bed in time for John to arrive in a fit of fear to ‘rescue’ him.

“The poison I made myself in the kitchen the night before while everyone slept. They’re harmless cleaning agents that any household would have; utterly ordinary and untraceable, as is the mason jar I stored them in. I was careful not to leave prints as well, even on the knife. None of it will be traced back to me.”

“Even if it were,” John whispered back, “You wouldn’t be in trouble. They were holding you _hostage_.”

“True, but everyone would always wonder if I were mad from the start or if their locking me up caused me to lose my mind and slaughter them all. They might question if my cubs were safe with me. This way was better. There’s no suspicion at all.”

John’s head reeled, “But… but… why didn’t you just sneak out when you got free?”

“The guards, of course. They patrolled constantly outside. I might have managed to slip past them, but what if I didn’t? What if I, and in turn our child, were harmed? Could you live with that?”

“No. Gods, no. You did the right thing. It was smart of you to wait for me to get you out. The guards fled when they saw the bodies, I’m guessing they don’t want to be blamed.”

“Yes, I knew they would, leaving you free to ride in on your…” Sherlock glanced towards the horse pulling the carriage and snorted, “Clydesdale… and rescue me.”

John snickered and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “You’re brilliant.”

“Really?” Sherlock asked, blushing from head to toe.

“Yes, really. Utterly brilliant.”


	9. Chapter 9

“We need to set up a few ground rules,” Sherlock stated as they neared the town and the police barracks therein.

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, I haven’t dated many Omegas, I forget you like rules and such…”

“Actually, I don’t.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m not a Submissive.”

“You’re… but you’re an Omega.”

“Yes, but I’m not a Submissive. Oh, I’ll pretend to be in public, for your sake, but I most definitely am not Submissive.”

“I… I got you into subspace!” John argued petulantly, “I hurt you and you loved it!”

“That’s because I’m a _masochist_. They aren’t synonymous, you know. I know more than one Omega who feels the same way, and I’ve met a _disgustingly_ long line of Alpha’s who aren’t Sadists at all. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I suppose, but it’s utterly unattractive to me.”

John gaped a moment and Hamish looked over his shoulder in concern.

“Then… how do we… _function_ ,” John stammered.

“You’re reasonably intelligent and I’m a genius. We’ll figure it out. As I’ve already said, I don’t want to cost you face, so I’ll behave submissively in public. I was taught how in school, it will be no hardship to play along. I will _not_ put up with humiliation, however.”

“So… you’re a switch?”

“No, I’m a masochist without submissive tendencies.”

“So… you’re a Dom?”

“Bloody hell, _no!_ I’m a masochist with no submissive tendencies! Is this really so hard to grasp?”

“You’re telling me everything I’ve ever known is _wrong_ , so… yes! How will we raise the kids? Who will cook and clean? I can’t! I haven’t been taught how!”

“I’m rich. Much to my more distant Alpha cousins’ dismay, thanks to my parents breaking the law all the money will be split between Mycroft and I. We’ll hire a maid. That’s what Mummy did,” Sherlock replied with a shrug, “Have I mentioned the part where I can’t wait to have your cubs?”

John beamed and Sherlock glanced at the barracks.

“I’m going to pretend not to remember anything. I think I’ve covered my tracks, but if they find evidence I can plead that their abuse drove me to it and I simply don’t recall. That way we avoid the stigma our children might otherwise carry.”

John nodded and glanced at his father who nodded agreement as well.

“It makes sense,” John stated as he gently helped his Omega down to the ground, “I mean the most successful Alphas have Omegas running things for them. I suppose submissiveness isn’t necessary. We’ll be equals!”

Sherlock grasped John’s hands and kissed him heatedly, “I’d love to reward you better for that, but I’m not sure how well I’m going to walk, let alone pleasure you properly.”

“Lean on me, love, or better yet, let me carry you,” John insisted of his wobbly-legged husband.

Sherlock eagerly slipped his arms around John’s shoulders and the man lifted him and carried him into the barracks as his father held the door.

“Is he injured?” A detective demanded instantly.

“No, just exhausted,” John smiled, lowering himself into a seat with Sherlock perched on his lap, “I’m afraid I’ve got something to report, though.”

The detective nodded, “You’ve killed them? We know.”

“Oh. No, actually. They were dead when I found them. I rather suspected an inside job or one of the militia men they’d hired.”

The detective smiled sadly, “It’s alright, son. Nobody blames you.”

“I appreciate that, Sir, but I really didn’t. My father can vouch for my whereabouts. They were all dead when I showed up to meet with Sherlock.”

Sherlock nodded, his eyes lowered demurely, “It’s all a bit of a blur, detective, but I heard an odd noise and hid. I must have fallen asleep, pregnancy can be so tiring, because next thing I know John was rescuing me.”

Sherlock gazed at John lovingly and he leaned in to capture a kiss. John lost himself in the kiss and the detective eventually laughed and called for them to stop.

“All right, you two. We’ve already sent word to Mr. Lestrade and his husband, so you two can relax for now. I’ll need you both to sign a statement, of course, but then you’re free to go.”

John and Sherlock did as asked and headed back out to the wagon, but not before John stopped at a shop and got a cushion for Sherlock.

“It’s not healthy for pregnant Omegas to ride without cushions,” John explained, and Sherlock smiled up at him warmly as he situated it and then lifted Sherlock into the seat.

When they arrived home John’s mother hugged Sherlock gently and pressed kisses to his face until he pulled away in disgust.

“Oh, you wonderful thing!” She cooed eagerly, “We’ve been waiting and hoping! Come inside! I’ve a pie fresh from the oven and stew in the pot and you can have whichever you want or both! If you don’t want either, I’ll make you something new!”

“Parsnips,” Sherlock stated firmly, “I want parsnips.”

John gaped at the request, but Nancy beamed, “Such a perfect craving! There’s some in the stew, but I can pull you some fresh if you want them plain.”

“Plain,” Sherlock insisted.

Nancy kissed his cheek again, “Bless your heart! A wee baby! Oh, let me get to the garden for those parsnips!”

“Parsnips?” John asked in confusion.

“Pregnancy craving,” Sherlock stated proudly.

John grinned again; his mouth was starting to hurt from it, and carried his Omega inside to introduce him to his sister.

“Harry! Harry, get down here! My _Omega_ is here!”

Harry came stomping down the stairs like an Alpha, ignoring her father’s scolding, and rushed up to Sherlock and John. John sat down on the couch with his Omega perched proudly in his lap.

“Oh! John! He’s beautiful!” Harry cheered, then spoke to Sherlock as well, “You really are!”

Sherlock leaned forward, pulled her close by her arm, and whispered something into her ear. John didn’t catch it but Harry went pale until Sherlock whispered something else. Then she smiled shyly and nodded. Harry murmured congratulations and then hurried away.

“What did you tell her?”

“That I know an Omega with similar taste to hers who is looking for someone to run away with.”

“Sherlock!” John whispered in alarm, “I can’t let my sister run away!”

“You mean you can’t let her find happiness,” Sherlock replied.

John’s jaw clicked shut, horrified, “Gods, no, you’re right. What do we do?”

“Nothing. I gave her the address. It’s her choice.”

John nodded and sat back, glancing at the stairs and wondering if this was the last time he’d see his sister.


	10. Chapter 10

John called for a furpile and spent the night and next day curled up with his family in bed trying in vain to heal their little pack. Even Harry joined them despite her unmatched status and the fact she was technically seen as a ‘minor’ until her marriage. John worried Sherlock’s pregnancy pheromones would throw his poor baby sister into heat again, but she seemed fine as she snuggled up behind their mum who had Sherlock tucked against her breast. Sherlock was quite content to be fussed over, and John spent his rotation watching his Omega to learn more about him. He noticed his father was doing the same when it was his turn to ‘stand guard’, and had even engaged him in conversation a few times while John was ‘on guard’ despite the upheaval he’d caused the night before.

Sherlock, as it turned out, had quite the scathing tongue. Within an hour of being in the house he’d called John’s father out on being a chronic gambler and accused him of ruining John and Harry’s chances of finding happy marriages.

_“If John hadn’t wandered in off the street and caught my attention you’d have ended up asking for a stud fee in no time, regardless of the antiquity of the custom. John’s too soft to go through that. You’d have destroyed him. You should be thanking me on bended knee.”_

_That had earned him a slap across the face from Hamish, but being a masochist he’d merely raised an eyebrow as though unimpressed. John, however, had launched himself at his father and a full out dominance battle had ensued. They’d ended in a draw as John refused to submit to his former pack Alpha and his father refused to submit to his son._

_“Who’s your pack Alpha now?” Harry had asked in alarm._

_“We haven’t got one,” John had replied in alarm, and promptly called for the furpile to end the fighting._

“We should go back to London,” John announced that morning while Harry fetched breakfast in lieu of a proper Beta, “Contact all our Alpha kith and kin and figure out who our pack Alpha is.”

“If you would just…” Hamish started.

“I _can’t_ dad. My instincts are fighting it. Maybe Sherlock’s right. Maybe you haven’t been good for the family.”

Harry returned with breakfast, including more parsnips for Sherlock who practically lived off of them. He greedily gobbled them down while Nancy rubbed his belly and nuzzled his curls. He tolerated it, John noticed, but wasn’t overly affectionate himself.

“Who was in your pack before we bonded?” John asked Sherlock.

“My family, of course, and Mycroft’s Alpha, Gregory Lestrade, and this damned female Alpha named Sally Donovan,” Sherlock pulled a face.

“The same Alpha your parents wanted to give you to?” John asked with hackles raised.

“The same, but I’d have never consented. I’d have run away, and frankly, she’d have let me. Donovan hates me.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why,” Hamish muttered.

“Hamish! Sherlock is family now!” Nancy scolded.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Hamish snarled.

“That’s my _mate_ you’re talking about!” John snapped, and just like that they were off again, tussling on the floor like schoolyard bullies.

“We’d better find a pack Alpha, and fast,” Sherlock sighed as he dabbed alcohol on John’s cuts and scrapes an hour later, “You two are getting more violent by the minute. I’ve never seen a father and son fight like this. It’s rather unusual.”

“His bite stopped comforting me while you and I were separated. I thought it was just because I missed you, but…”

“I see, it sounds as though there’s some rather bad damage there. It might be best if we lived elsewhere,” Sherlock advised, cupping his abdomen gently.

John nodded, though the idea of breaking off from his first pack was alarming it wasn’t as though he’d never heard of mated couples forming non-familial packs.

“We’ll start with your brother and his Alpha,” John decided.

“A likely choice. You’ll like Lestrade. He’s got a sense of humor and he tolerates me.”

“You say that as if it’s rare,” John teased.

Sherlock leveled a look at him, “John, it _is_ rare. My parents had difficulty breeding me for a reason. It wasn’t just their pickiness mixing with mine; many Alphas and Omegas find me intolerable. Betas are probably the only ones who can stand my company for any length of time, and we can’t have a pack solely of Betas, especially if you aren’t pack Alpha material.”

“Who says I’m not?” John bristled, “Just because I can’t Dom my father, doesn’t mean I can’t Dom someone else. Most kids can’t Dom their parents.”

“Point taken,” Sherlock conceded, his hand unconsciously stroking John’s thigh, “But we’ve got a child coming into the world in six months. It’s necessary that we make sure he or she has a safe haven. Pack means safety.”

“I won’t let our child be born packless,” John insisted, “If I have to submit to someone, I will. I promise you, I’m not being stubborn here. I’m honestly just not able to work with my father anymore.”

“No, no, I’m glad of that. Don’t misunderstand me. It’s what’s best for us. If you are pack Alpha material, I’ll be happy. I just don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to be to impress me. You don’t have to impress me.”

John smiled and kissed his Omega before slowly tugging him back towards the bed. His parents smirked at each other, collected their plates, and gave them some privacy. Harry gave them a look of disgust and hurried away. As John was stripping Sherlock’s clothing off he noticed an odd bulge at his belly, he touched it gently and found it hard.

“Sherlock! Feel your abdomen! Your uterus is finally swelling!”

Sherlock reached down in surprise and explored the firm oval protruding from his normally flat stomach. He looked so utterly transfixed that John simply watched him for several minutes.

“It must be your presence,” Sherlock replied, “I should have grown more before now. My body is healing because we’re closer to each other.”

John kissed him hungrily and they finished stripping so they could make love properly.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

“John Watson and Omega to see Inspector Gregory Lestrade,” John stated, handing his card to the Beta servant at the door.

They were let into a waiting area and offered refreshments before the Beta fetched the owner of the house: a young man with prematurely grey hair and a cheery smile on his face.

“So this is Sherlock’s Alpha! Bless your heart and seed!”

John blushed at the jovial- and slightly inappropriate- greeting, but found himself grinning as well. They shook hands amicably and Lestrade pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek once he’d been given John’s permission to address and touch him. The Omega was clearly comfortable around Lestrade and John felt no urge to keep the Alpha away from his mate, so he was at the very _least_ a pack member.

“We’ve had a bit of a difficulty I’d like to discuss with you,” John explained.

“Of course, yes, come in. We’ll take tea in the sunroom. Lovely this time of day. Can’t believe a bloke like me has a _sunroom_. So posh. Comes of marrying money, I suppose; the dowry Mycroft came with was unbelievable. I hear my good-for-nothing in-laws didn’t deign to offer you one.”

“No, they paid a stud fee for me, then fought our bonding once we realized Sherlock and I were Perfect Matches.”

“Bastards. I’m glad you killed them, Sherl, though you’ll have trouble convincing your brother of that. He’s pissed and then some.”

“Sherl?” John snickered, and got his arm pinched for his teasing. Lestrade didn’t notice.

Lestrade motioned for them to sit and John took his spot on the couch while Sherlock glared at the cushion meant for him to kneel on and stubbornly sat beside John. John glanced nervously at Lestrade, who gave them both a confused look, but then shrugged it off. He likely thought the pregnancy was cause for Sherlock not to kneel as was proper for an Omega Sub.

“I prefer Sher, if you must shorten my name,” Sherlock snipped at Lestrade, “but I suggest you make all effort to enunciate the full _two_ syllables.”

John gaped at his gall but Lestrade only laughed, “I don’t envy the bastard who has to put up with you, Sherlock. Your brother’s enough of a handful. Where the hell is that damned Sub anyway? My! My! We have guests!”

Lestrade pulled on the servants bell pull and Mycroft opened the doors to the sunroom and scowled in.

“I will _not_ wait on my murdering brother’s Alpha!” He snapped, and then slammed them shut.

Lestrade sighed and rolled his eyes, “I apologize for his behavior. You know how they try to assert themselves sometimes. It’s not good for him to be left unpunished, though. Please excuse me.”

There was a moment of silence after Lestrade left the room and then a loud crack followed by a yelp of pain. More silence and Lestrade re-entered while slipping his belt back into place.

“He’ll be a moment,” Lestrade stated calmly, “I was lucky to end up with a Sub who isn’t a masochist; makes punishing so much simpler. You probably have to do time-outs, eh? Sherl seems the masochistic type to me.”

“I… I haven’t had to punish him yet,” John replied nervously.

Lestrade gaped, “By all that’s… seriously? His parents hardly went an _hour_ without punishing him! He’s got to be the most disobedient Sub I’ve ever met! He even went on about not _wanting_ the discipline! I mean, I can understand not _liking_ it, but what Sub doesn’t _want_ discipline? You tell me that?”

Mycroft entered at that moment, his eyes a bit puffy, but otherwise composed. He was pushing a cart of tea, which he knelt down and served first to his own Alpha and then to John. Sherlock was left to wait for John to give him permission to help himself to some tea, as was custom, but snatched it up himself before John could open his mouth. John froze a moment. Sherlock had stated he would be submissive in public, but this was pack; perhaps that meant he wouldn’t be submissive around Lestrade and Mycroft?

John glanced up to find them both gaping at the display of power struggle and clearly waiting for John to discipline Sherlock… who hated discipline and _wasn’t_ a Sub despite being a masochist. Well, hell, they were pack, might as well be honest.

“Sherlock doesn’t like discipline because he isn’t a Sub,” John replied, “So I don’t discipline him. We’re still… working out the rest.”

“When you said you had a difficulty, I didn’t think it was training!” Lestrade replied in shock, “Didn’t your parents send you to school? Or train you themselves?”

“Oh, I’ve been trained,” John replied, blushing in humiliation, “It’s just that Sherlock’s not a Sub.”

“Of course he’s a _Sub_ , he’s an _Omega_. All Omegas are Subs unless…” Lestrade lowered his voice to a whisper, “He’s a deviate? A Dom or a Switch?”

“No, neither! He’s honestly not any of those things.”

“You have to be _something_. Either you’re a Sub, a Dom, or a Switch! That’s how it works! How can you be _nothing_? That’s like… like saying water can’t be wet!”

Sherlock snorted, “I assure you I get quite wet, thank you very much.”

“Sherlock!” John snapped, “There’s no need to be lewd!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed, but John turned his attention back to the others instead of focusing on Sherlock.

“We’re actually here looking for our pack Alpha,” John explained, “Apparently it’s not my father.”

“Good luck!” Lestrade gawped, “You’ll be lucky to find one!”

John paled. He was right. No one would want them with Sherlock’s dynamic _missing_. He might have said he’d be submissive in public, but if that meant _not around pack_ then he was looking at an entirely alienated pack. His own brother was looking at him in open disgust. There was only one thing for it; John _had_ to be pack Alpha

_Damn it, Sherlock probably worked all that out this morning!_

John calmly put his teacup down and indicated Lestrade should do the same. Mycroft and Sherlock both quickly moved away as the tension and Alpha aggression scent built up in the room. Lestrade lifted his chin to look down his nose at John and then they were on each other. The tea tray was upended and the two men wrestled violently amidst the ruins of scalding tea and glass. John felt glass cut through his clothes and into his back, but he was determined and his mind was slipping farther into feral.

There was a deciding moment when Lestrade got his mouth on John’s neck and sucked _hard_ , but John’s body wasn’t accepting the scent, just as it hadn’t with his father. He growled angrily and rolled them over, pinning Lestrade against the couch he’d been sitting on and latching onto his neck to suck hard. He moaned, feeling himself instinctively rut his erection against Lestrade’s, whose head fell back as he whimpered submissively.

John pulled back, gasping for breath and reeling with a heady sort of power. He was across the room and after Mycroft in an instant. The stubborn Sub tried to get away, but he quickly snatched him against himself and suckled his neck as he ground himself against the man’s full bottom. The Omega went limp at the show of power and keened happily at his new pack Alpha’s strength. John lowered him gently to the ground and petted his auburn hair before pressing a kiss to his cheek and leaving him to collect himself. He returned to his own mate and suckled his neck gently when Sherlock offered it up with a proud smile.

“Gods!” John gasped, dropping onto the couch again in amazement.

Was this what a pack Alpha felt like? He felt so utterly overwhelmed with adrenalin. His body was pumping out testosterone by the pint! He was rock hard and felt like he’d never be sated. He wanted to bend both Omegas over and breed them fast and hard, but he had to reign himself in. Sherlock was pregnant already and the other Omega wasn’t his. He had no intention of breeding him- though that was technically his right- unless his own Alpha proved unable to impregnate him.

“Bit overwhelming, isn’t it?” Lestrade asked as he tiredly slumped into his own seat and mopped at his bleeding lip with a napkin, “I’ve never experienced it myself, but it’s supposed to be quite the rush.”

“Rush isn’t the half of it!” John panted, “Fucking _high_ is what it is!”

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow and John’s control snapped; he pinned the Omega to the sofa and yanked his skirts up over his head. He soon had his lovely mate bent over the sofa arm, and was fucking him fast and hard. He could smell aroused Omega and Alpha, his mind supplying them as his new pack even in his feral state. He purposely didn’t knot Sherlock, despite his mews of protest. Instead he whipped his back with one end of his belt until he came and then pulled out and walked over to where Mycroft was grinding himself down on Lestrade’s cock while kissing him hungrily. Sherlock was still pleading for his knot, but John had something that needed doing. His instincts were raging and he quickly squeezed his knot and stroked the tip of his cock until he came hard across Mycroft and Lestrade’s bodies. They made soft moaning sounds, but were otherwise uninterrupted by his intrusion.

Satisfied with his scenting, John returned to Sherlock and pulled the snarling Omega down onto his cock, facing his Alpha instead of his brother just in case it bothered him. Sherlock took the knot with a sharp cry and then gyrated eagerly until he brought himself off twice more. John groaned out another release just as his Omega fell limp in his lap. Once he was certain his Omega was both satisfied and sleeping, John raised his eyes to see how his pack was doing. Lestrade had switched it up and Mycroft was on his back with his arms and legs wrapped around the Inspector. The blissed out look on his face spoke of subspace and John smiled contentedly.

Once their bodies stilled, John and Lestrade made eye contact and John asked the necessary questions.

“His safe word?”

“Spaghetti. Hates the stuff,” Lestrade grinned weakly as he nuzzled his lover’s neck.

“His last heat?”

“Hasn’t had one in ages. I never accepted his parents as pack and my own father died shortly after we were married so…”

“Shit,” John replied, shaking his head sadly. An Omega that felt unsafe, as a packless one did, wouldn’t go into heat regularly, sometimes not for years at a time. No wonder Mycroft wasn’t pregnant yet!

“If he doesn’t go on heat now…” Lestrade whispered hopefully, and stroked his husbands face. Mycroft sighed happily as he floated through his own personal dreamscape and murmured his mate’s name.

“If he doesn’t, come and get me. Having a pack Alphas ejaculate on him _should_ force him into heat, but I’ve only just become pack. His body might fight it. I can always do this again.”

Lestrade nodded and gave him a grateful look, “Thanks for not just coming in and trying to breed him. I want at _least_ our first cub to be mine. Preferably all of them to be mine.”

“My instincts said not to,” John replied with a shrug. Which meant either that his Alpha didn’t want to mate with his Perfect Match’s brother, or the Omega beneath Lestrade was infertile. No one wanted to say that last bit out loud, especially not in front of said Omega. They could go mad from being infertile; often times a lobotomy was the only solution.

Sherlock squirmed a bit and John released him so he could ease off John’s prick and collapse on the sofa beside him.

“I’m thirsty, hungry, and nauseous,” Sherlock announced.

“Quit whining, you’re killing my buzz,” Mycroft snipped.

“Are they always like this?” John asked worriedly at the lack of brotherly love.

“This is downright well behaved!” Lestrade laughed, then rang for the servants to fetch them more tea, water, and some food for Sherlock.

“Parsnips,” John sighed.

“No. Apples. I want _apples_ now,” Sherlock corrected.

“Gods, is that what I have to look forward to?” Lestrade laughed, “Get his Lordship Sherlock some apples!”

Mycroft excused himself to the bathroom to clean up and returned re-dressed and ready to serve the food when it arrived. John took Sherlock to the nearest bathroom and treated the welts and cuts on his back with some rubbing alcohol. He then cleaned Sherlock and himself up and re-dressed them both as best he could, but some of Sherlock’s clothing had been torn up a bit.

“Good thing it’s not cold, eh?” John teased, and Sherlock smirked at him.

“Do you do everything for him?” Lestrade asked as they re-entered the sunroom.

“It’s only been a day or so. Hard to tell. Funny thing is my instincts are fine with this. He’s respectful to me, so my Dominant side isn’t bothered, despite the lack of Submissiveness. I imagine me being pack Alpha will be good for that, too, as eventually my Dom side is going to need someone to Submit a bit.”

Mycroft gave Lestrade a pleading look and John hastened to reply, “I’m not going to interfere, at least I’ll try not to. Hopefully my Dom will be satisfied with… oh! My sister!”

“Your sister?” Lestrade asked.

“I need to find a new home and fast. Sherlock, how soon can we get a hold of your parent’s money?”

“ _Some of us_ are mourning them,” Mycroft hissed and John hastened to apologize until Lestrade cut him off.

“No you’re not, you’re just trying to look proper,” Lestrade snickered, “Go on, John, what’s the emergency?”

“My sister. She’s… Damn, it’s not my secret to tell. She’s an Omega and she needs to be away from my parents. I need to bring her into my pack, if she’ll accept me as her pack Alpha, and into my home, but first I need a _home_ to take her to!”

“You can stay here till you’re situated, Sir,” Mycroft offered after glancing at his Alpha for permission. It was tradition that only Omegas extended invitations: it was important they be comfortable with Alpha guests in their homes, especially when required to wait on them.

“Sherlock, is that alright with you?” John asked, stroking the lounging man’s calf where it was stretched out in his lap.

“I suppose,” Sherlock shrugged.

“Then I’d like to leave you here while I fetch my sister, is that okay?”

“Fetch this Omega, too,” Sherlock instructed as he pulled out a pen and wrote a name and address down on a napkin.

“Sherlock, I can’t just go grab an Omega, surely she belongs to someone?”

“No, actually. Her family died and her guardian has been abusing her. You can just waltz in with your sister in toe and offer her sanctuary. As a pack Alpha it’s your right to collect unmated Omegas. You might have to pay a bride price for her, but it will be worth it.”

“I don’t want a harem!” John gaped, “They’re never done anymore, anyway!”

“No one has to know she’s not for you,” Sherlock scoffed.

John thought a moment and then realized what Sherlock meant: “Oh! She’s the Omega you mentioned to…!”

John cut himself off before he said too much and pressed a kiss to his brilliant Omega’s lips.

“I have a feeling that you manipulated this entire day, you know that?” Lestrade said to Sherlock.

“That’s because I did,” Sherlock replied, helping himself to another apple, “I feel like nesting. May I have some pillows?”


	11. Chapter 11

John was angry, tired, and frustrated. He’d picked up Molly from the bastard cousin who was working her like a slave and paid a substantial bride-price for her from Lestrade’s coffers. Then he’d argued for hours with his parents over turning Harry’s guardianship over to him. He didn’t want to pay them off as well, he wanted things to stay alright with them since they were his _parents_ , but in the end he’d ended up pointing out his father’s gambling problem and his mother had started to cry. He’d given up and paid them off as well, leaving with both Omegas in tow.

Molly and Harry sat in the back of Lestrade’s shwanky automobile and shyly introduced each other. By the time they got to Lestrade’s Manor they were holding hands and blushing every time their eyes met. That, at least, warmed John’s heart a bit. John asked Molly and Harry to trust Lestrade, Sherlock, and Mycroft and welcomed them into the pack. The two were given a room beside his and Sherlock’s.

“Homosexual Omegas! I’ll be damned! We’ve got the oddest pack in the whole bloody country!” Lestrade had stated, staring at Harry and Molly as though they were circus performers.

“Oi! That’s my sister!” John snipped, and the man muttered an apology, “Look, we’ll be out of your hair as soon as the money clears the bank. We’re selling the Holmes estate in the country…”

“Like hell you are!” Mycroft shouted, and was promptly ordered to the ground by Lestrade.

“You want the property, you ask _politely_ ,” Lestrade snapped irritably, “Like a proper Sub!”

“I’m sorry, Master, please forgive me,” Mycroft replied miserably.

John felt Sherlock bristle beside him, but the man was thankfully silent.

“You want your family home?” Lestrade asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Mycroft replied, looking up at Lestrade with longing in his eyes, “I want to raise your cubs there.”

Lestrade’s eyes softened and John smiled to himself. Omegas. They always knew how to wrap Alphas around their little fingers.

“John, I’m tired,” Sherlock yawned.

_Speaking of manipulative Omegas._

“Okay, lets go to bed love,” John soothed, heading for the stairs with Sherlock, who had a pillow and two blankets under his arms.

“We’ll discuss business tomorrow?” Lestrade asked.

“Actually, we can make this fairly simple and divide the properties up. There’s the summer home in London on Baker Street and the family estate in the country… are there others?”

“An island in the Americas, but that can easily be sold,” Mycroft drawled.

“A bloody _island_? That sounds nice. I’ve never seen a tropical beach before,” John wondered.

“It isn’t tropical,” Sherlock snorted, “It’s got lobsters for three months a year and ice for the rest.”

“Oh. Lovely,” John laughed, “selling that, then. The girls will have to live with me, of course, so we’ll need a lot of space. Baker Street has that, so if Mycroft wants the family seat he’s welcome to it. I guess we can assess the value of everything when the estate comes through and split it all down the middle after that.”

“Long as he understands we’ll only be _visiting_ it. I have work here,” Lestrade prodded.

“I understand, Sir. Thank you Sir,” Mycroft purred prettily.

John left them to their flirting and headed upstairs.

XXXXXXXXXXX

It was sometime in the middle of the night when John was awakened by his sister shaking his arms frantically.

“John! John! Molly’s in heat and I don’t know what to do! She didn’t bring any toys with her!”

John staggered out of bed. He could smell Molly’s heat radiating off of Harry’s skin. She’d probably tried to fist the girl but hadn’t known what she was doing. Damn the lack of education for Omegas! John was getting hard off of it, and it was a disconcerting feeling.

“You’d better breed her,” Sherlock grunted, then rolled over and snuggled deeper into his pile of pillows.

John blinked at him, saw the logic in the concept, and headed next door to breed the Omega his sister had probably only just married.

“I’m guessing you bonded with her?”

“Y-yes? Was that wrong?” Harry asked in a choked voice.

_Poor thing. She’s scared. She’s only had a Mock Heat, it probably looks pretty awful to her._

“No, sweetheart, that was what you were supposed to do. She marked you, too?”

“Yes.”

“Then chances are you haven’t gone into heat because neither Lestrade nor I are a viable mate for you. You might not ever again if we keep you away from unmated Alphas. If you do, you’ll have to use toys or get Molly to fist you. Unless you’d like me to get you a stud?”

“No,” Harry replied with a wrinkled nose.

They’d stopped outside of her door and he could hear Molly inside sobbing and crying out in misery.

“Okay, here’s the deal. I have to mate her or she’s going to be miserable. What cubs she has are yours and hers to raise,” John explained, and smiled when Harry’s eyes lit up, “The only decision you have to make is if you want to be in the room with us or not. You can hold her hand and kiss her, she might respond to you but probably not. It’s going to be days of this, so you don’t have to decide now. It’s not abnormal for siblings to be around each other during sex or even heat, just so you know. It happens during furpiles all the time.”

Harry considered it and sighed in frustration, “I guess I’ll come in just… _do something._ She’s crying!”

John nodded and entered the room. He’d been with a few Beta females, so he knew his way around a penis-free female body, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous to breed a female packmate. He needn’t have worried. The second he got a whiff of her Heat hormones he was on her and inside of her. The haze of mating fell over them both and John spent the next few days unware of most of his surroundings. He heard Sherlock’s voice at one point and turned his head to receive a firm kiss.

_“You’re so strong, so sexy. You’re going to fill her up with cubs and give us a big powerful pack, aren’t you John?”_

John groaned and rolled over. Everything hurt and everything was _dry_. He was hungry in a way that spoke volumes of his situation. There was a shifting on the bed he lay on and his eyes flew open to meet Sherlock’s.

“You were magnificent,” His Omega purred, stroking his hand over his slightly swollen belly as he smiled down at John, “I had a servant bring us food. It’s here for you, but _I_ want to feed it to you. You’ve more than earned the right to eat from my fingertips.”

 _Who’s the Dom here_? John wondered, but he smiled and accepted the first sip of juice from his snarky Omega.

“Molly?” John croaked once his voice was capable.

“Her belly is distended with your seed,” Sherlock preened, “She’s sure to be round with child in a few months. Our pack will be _quite_ impressive. Will you have your sister bred?”

“She doesn’t want to be,” John replied, eyeing his mate worriedly.

Sherlock simply nodded as if that were perfectly normal and John relaxed into the soft bed. A bit of food was pressed to his lips and he chewed sleepily as he enjoyed the food. It was delicious, rich and creamy in a way he’d never experienced before.

“I like being married to a rich Omega.”

Sherlock snorted, “The perks of being Pack Alpha are even more fun for you, I’m sure. I hope you aren’t less interested in me now that you’ve bedded a female Omega in Heat?”

“Gods, no,” John croaked, “You were in my mind the whole time. Did you come in at some point? I swear I heard you encouraging me.”

Sherlock nodded, “I’ve been running the house while you were otherwise engaged; nesting, organizing, being a regular host. We’ve received many congratulatory visitors; Lestrade was kind enough to be my chaperon. Part of my ‘duties’ as the Omega of the House was to go in and make sure you and the ladies had enough food and water. I fed you a few times and covered for your sister while Harry caught up on some sleep. It was quite… invigorating to watch you taking her so aggressively. I even managed to pry you off of her and enjoy that knot of yours while Harry fisted Molly. I had to instruct her. It was a bit awkward, but you taking me so wildly was worth it.”

John’s mouth was dry at that description as well as the lazy, sensual look in Sherlock’s eyes. However, they both knew he’d be useless for the next few days. Instead he accepted Sherlock’s help into a bath and sighed as the heat eased his aches and pains. His lover sat down on the edge of the tub and removed his shirt, tugging John’s hand up to stroke his belly.

“Gods,” John choked, feeling emotional from the surge of hormones and exhaustion, “You’re so gorgeous. So beautiful. So perfect. I love that you handle things on your own. Not helpless, you.”

“Most Subs aren’t helpless,” Sherlock snorted, “Society has made them that way. Look at your sister: she’s scared but she’s plowing ahead, determined to find her little piece of happiness. You’re a good pack Alpha, John. Not many would allow what you have in your sister and her mate. I assume they’ll be raising any children you sire with Molly?”

“Yes, we discussed it briefly but it should be re-iterated.”

“What needs discussing is our pack. Stamford visited.”

“He’s a good Beta.”

“Yes, I was content with him. He’s very calm and soothing. I’d like him at my birth.”

“Mmm, sure. I’ll be delivering the baby,” John replied, his tone broking no argument.

“Of course,” Sherlock snorted, “As if I’d let anyone else. Your sister?”

“She can attend,” John nodded.

“Then that should be enough. I’d prefer to give birth in our proper home.”

“No problem. We’ll go as soon as I can walk unassisted.”

Sherlock snorted and left John relaxing in the tub while he headed out to see to the family affairs. John heard him having a shouting match with Mycroft, but Lestrade’s scolding ended it and Sherlock wandered back into the room with more pillows to pile on their bed.

“You keep nesting, darling, it’s hot as hell,” John flirted.

“Don’t tease me till you can get it up again,” Sherlock laughed back at him.

“You’re so round with my baby,” John moaned, pretending arousal.

“Until your cock is heavy, this heavy belly is off limits.”

“You’re cruel!” John laughed.

“I’m getting more blankets.”

“No you aren’t!” Lestrade shouted, “The damn house is empty! The last of them are on our beds and you are _not_ having them!”

John shifted in the water. He knew the reason Sherlock was overwhelming their bed with pillows and blankets was because he wasn’t comfortable here. They needed to get to Baker Street so he could nest comfortably. Then he’d be settled and John could open his medical practice and start their lives together with his perfect Omega.

Sherlock opened the bathroom door again and smiled at John cheerfully, “Molly is awake. I told her to stop crying but she won’t.”

The door slammed shut and John groaned in frustration, “I need to work on his people skills.”


	12. Chapter 12

A/N If you’re following me on my [facebook page](https://www.facebook.com/vinny.meoblinn) you’ll already have this announcement and can skip this bit and go onto the story. A friend of mine will be helping me in a chapter or two on this story. She’ll be writing the F/F sexiness since I fail at it miserably while I write the plot surrounding it. YAY! I’m also planning on bringing Irene into this in a rather surprising way… same friend gave me the idea. Not sure when that will happen, though.

It took John an hour to convince Molly that she hadn’t betrayed Harry, and that was with Harry sitting by her side insisting the same thing he was. Then he spent another hour rocking them both in his arms as if they were small children while they took comfort from their pack Alpha. Sherlock wandered in with a scowl on his face, but John gave him a head shake and sent him off. He’d deal with his needy Omega later; not that he didn’t have a right while pregnant and after going through all they had.

Finally John left the two Omegas sleeping in each other’s arms and headed downstairs to speak with Lestrade and cuddle his Omega. Sherlock was in the sitting room dragging the pillows off the couch; John chased him away from them, wrapped his arm around his darling’s waist, and led him into the library where Lestrade was going over a packet of papers. He looked up and gave them both a warm smile.

“Oh good, you’re up again! Or down, as the case may be,” Lestrade chuckled, “Now that you’re here maybe Sherlock can focus on these cases.”

“Cases?”

“Two burglaries and a murder, didn’t you say?” Sherlock asked, stepping forward and pulling John with him. John sank into a chair and Sherlock sat on his lap to look over the papers, “The first burglary is fairly straight forward. The brother.”

“Why?”

“Check if he has a green ladder. It’s all the evidence you need.”

“My gods, you’re right. That would explain everything!” Lestrade declared, “What about the others?”

“I’ll have to see the scenes.”

“They’re all cleaned up.”

“I’ll take a look at them anyway.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Lestrade asked with a sigh, “You aren’t a single Omega sneaking out of your parents house to help me with cases anymore, Lock. You’ve got a _mate_ now.”

“What about it? We’ll be living in the Baker Street Estate,” Sherlock replied with a scoff, “I’ll be _local_. More than I was before when we lived in the country and you didn’t complain about trekking out there to fetch me.”

“Not what I meant,” Lestrade sighed, “John?”

“I’m still not clear on what’s going on,” John stated.

“I advise Lestrade on his cases with Scotland Yard from time to time,” Sherlock replied, turning to give John a flirtatious look, “My unique skills are often invaluable to him.”

“He’s not lying,” Lestrade sighed, “I’ve been up shit creek without him. These are just the most pressing cases, we have a dozen others I could use his eyes on so I can make sure I get the _full_ conviction.”

“You’re that good?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and John recalled his meticulous planning of the murder of his family and the servants who had held him prisoner. He swallowed hard and nodded. Sherlock leaned forward and kissed him gently before whispering against his lips- softly enough that Lestrade wouldn’t hear him.

_“I’ll never hurt you, John. You know that. I had to protect our cub.”_

“ _I know,_ ” John whispered, pressing a kiss to those full lips once more, then spoke aloud, “Sherlock is welcome to help you with cases. I’m not going to restrict him, but I _will_ go along while he’s pregnant.”

“Fantastic! I’m glad you’re alright with it. However, I’d like to discuss some Alpha business with you, John,” Lestrade stated, nodding to Sherlock to leave.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but took his dismissal with good graces.

“We’ll leave tomorrow, Sherlock,” John soothed.

“We’d better,” Sherlock scowled and stormed off with a sway of his expanding hips.

“Sinful, that,” John breathed.

“Yeah,” Lestrade sighed, “I can’t wait to see My like that… all full with child and looking so damn good. I hope he’s got _lots_ of milk in his tits.”

“Mmm,” John agreed.

“Well, onto business. Believe it or not, we’ve got pack applications to see to.”

“Applications? That’s a bit...”

“Old fashioned? Richy rich? Yeah, it is, the rich arrange their packs _very_ carefully… well, they try to. They just don’t acknowledge the ones they aren’t supposed to be socializing with, but you know full well they’ll go to them if they need to.”

“Omegas don’t take part in this sort of thing?” John worried.

“To an extent they do. The pack Alpha starts by interviewing them and if he thinks they’re qualified he’ll introduce them to the Omegas and make sure they’re comfortable with them. You know how packs go; some people aren’t even aware that they’re in them in the first place. It’s just a formality. Stupid rich shit,” Lestrade laughed, “First is Mike Stamford.”

“He’s in.”

“Okay… next is Sally Donovan, my Sergeant. She lost her pack recently to disease. Real terrible fucking loss, really.”

“That name sounds familiar…” John wondered.

“It should. She was petitioning to have Sherlock as her Omega,” Lestrade held up a hand when John leaped out of his chair in a full rage, “Look, she didn’t really want him. She just wanted in a pack and that was the easiest way. I was speaking on her behalf, but the Holmes’ lied to me about you being Sherlock’s Perfect Match. I withdrew my support once My told me. She hates his guts anyway. Frankly, I think she’d make a poor addition, but I think she’s already pack whether we acknowledge it or not.”

“You’re attached to her,” John nodded.

“She _is_ my sergeant.”

“Then we haven’t much of a choice,” John sighed, “I’ll meet her, but I can’t imagine I’ll accept her myself and Sherlock _definitely_ won’t. She’ll be an outlier member. Not the best position to be in.”

“If it’s all we can offer her, then it’s all we can offer her,” Lestrade shrugged, “Third offer is an Omega name of Jim Moriarty. I don’t know much about him, but he heard you were collecting unmated Omegas and thought he’d hop on board, apparently he’s an outlier himself.”

“Sounds interesting,” John replied, his mind working ahead to all the cubs they would have so quickly, “But I’d rather not have to mate so often. Could we set him up with Donovan?”

“She’s interested in someone else, frankly.”

“Hmmm, is he in a bad situation?”

“Nope. He’s a governess to a wealthy family. Self sufficient.”

“He’s got a job! Well, lucky thing. There are so few Omegas allowed to work, and so very few jobs are available to them. I’ll meet him, but I’m leaning away from it if none of ours are attached to him.”

“Okay, we’ll set it up for a week from now. Give you time to move in.”

“Perfect.”

John called Sherlock back in, dealt with his temper tantrum, ended up sucking him off while spanking him soundly to properly end it, and finally headed up to bed for a proper sleep.

“Being a pack Alpha is exhausting,” John groaned as he sank into bed.

“Yes, all that sex and chit-chatting must be so exhausting,” Sherlock sighed.

“Shut up or I’ll gag you.”

“Oh, promises, promises,” Sherlock chuckled, but John was already asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Molly slept and just generally rested for several days after her first Heat with John; she was malnourished already so the Heat had drained her significantly. Due to her sad state of health, John doubted she had become pregnant, but took the precaution of putting her on vitamins, which she sorely needed anyway. Harry was smitten. She waited on Molly hand and foot, tenderly washing her lover and helping her from the bed to bathroom and back again. When Molly wanted to read a book, Harry read over her shoulder. When Molly slept, Harry sat by her side and stroked her hair or curled up beside her like a complacent kitten.

Harry’s experience during Molly’s Heat had been a bit frightening; not only had she seen her knew bondmate- who she hardly knew, but felt responsible for- in a significant amount of discomfort, but she’d also witnessed the ferocity of an Alpha in her normally soft-spoken brother. For several days after she had a great deal of difficulty looking John in the eye until he pulled her aside.

“Listen, Harry,” John soothed, “I know it was a bit odd what you saw, but I don’t want us having trouble between us. Talk to me, yeah? What’s upsetting you? That I was with Molly? Seeing me in Rut? Molly getting pleasure from someone else? You not being able to mate her?”

“All of them,” Harry stated in frustration, brushing her hair aside, “Isn’t there _anything_ I can do for her next time? I like the idea of us being able to have kids through you, but I hated feeling so damn helpless!”

“I’ll think of something,” John comforted, thinking of the toys most Omegas were given to deal with their Heat when no bondmate or pack Alpha were available, “Meanwhile, what can I do to make this okay between us? I don’t want to feel estranged from my sister- it might break our pack up.”

“I just… I just needed to have this talk, I guess,” Harry sighed, “I have a few questions but they’re weird.”

“I’m sure they aren’t weird,” John smiled.

“Do you… do you want her often?”

John shook his head, “Molly is lovely, but it’s Sherlock I’m obsessed with.”

“Okay, good. I’m glad to hear that. Okay so… the Rut thing? Did you know what was going on?”

“A bit, yeah, but it was all a blur. It’s very physical, but not at all mental.”

“Can… can you teach me what to do to help her enjoy being with me?” Harry asked, her eyes flashing with determination despite the blush on her cheeks.

John smiled, “I think so. Let’s go to my study.”

John led the way down to the practice he’d opened on the east wing of Baker Street and into the study where he kept his medical books. He pulled one on Omegas off the shelf and started with the basics. Harry blushed, but was confident as she asked questions and demanded more detailed answers. By the time she left she was positive she could be a fantastic lover for Molly… and John was wondering if he was good enough for an Omega since he’d never thought of half the things Harry had asked.

John headed downstairs to question Sherlock while Harry went back upstairs to see her new bondmate. Molly and Harry were still shy around each other, especially Molly who had been barely conscious during their five-day sex marathon with John. Harry was more concerned with keeping Molly _happy_ since she’d had such a difficult life, while Molly was afraid to touch Harry due to her own inexperience (and despite the fact that she was older).

So Harry sat down with her usual forward ways and faced the shy Molly with a stubborn look plastered to her face.

“Okay. It had to happen that way,” Harry stated firmly, “We both know it did. Hopefully- probably- we’ll have a baby or two out of it and that will be fantastic. We don’t know each other well yet, but I know we’re drawn to each other so let’s start learning. I’m skipping things like favorite colors and presents; let’s go straight to the meat of it. I prefer to be on top during sex; at least that’s how I picture it, but I’m willing to experiment. I think of myself as an Alpha. I’m very jealous. I’m very possessive. Instinctively I don’t feel distressed about John breeding you, but I don’t want to share you. He’s aware of that and fine with it. He might have either of us be Submissive to him in a platonic way, but he won’t be taking you to bed often- if at all- outside of heat. How do you feel about all of that, then?”

Molly shifted a bit, “Are you going to order me about?”

“Not really,” Harry shrugged, “John might. We’re to have servants, apparently, but we’re welcome to Sub wherever we want to.”

“How can I make myself prettier for you?”

Harry stared in confusion, “What?”

“How can I make myself prettier? What do you want me to wear? Or do with my hair? My family had me wear a sack over my head around them so they didn’t have to see my face. I can do that if you like. I’m quite used to it.”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Harry stated softly, then stood up and walked into the hall to scream in rage before returning with a calm head, “Nothing of the sort. I want you the way you are. Wash regularly, don’t wear revealing clothes around Alphas, and I won’t complain at all.”

“Kay,” Molly muttered, ducking her head and blushing.

“Anything else?”

“Umm, I’m not very experienced sexually… outside what we did just before I went on heat and with… your brother…”

“That’s fine. John showed me some stuff and we talked a bit. He’s a doctor and he had some advice for me. I’ll share it with you and we’ll try a few things. It’s going to be awkward for a bit, but then it _will_ be great.”

“Kay.”

“What about…” Harry started, but the door burst open and a half-dressed John stormed in, glancing around with a predatory look.

“You screamed. It wasn’t a good scream,” John stated, his eyes narrowed.

“I’m fine, I was just mad,” Harry sighed.

“I’ve _asked_ you not to do that!” John snapped irritably.

“I’m sorry,” Molly said softly, “It was my fault. I made her angry.”

“Your _family_ made me angry,” Harry corrected.

“Your _former_ family makes me _very_ angry,” John sighed, “If there’s no emergency I left Sherlock a bit on the naked side.”

“Ew. Leave,” Harry groused.

John left with a sigh and Harry turned back to Molly, “There’s nothing wrong with you, just your family.”

“Like you said,” Molly sighed, “You don’t know me well yet.”


	14. ARTWORK

Art by Okomirose: "Omega Sherlock in Period Clothes" in To Breed An Omega

  
If you look closely you can see the 221B wallpaper design is worked into the bodice. 


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: The following was written by my dearest friend okomirose. Please give her much love for her hard work!

_“Like you said,” Molly sighed, “You don’t know me well yet.”_

“I know you're beautiful, kind, hard working, love to read… I know I love you.”

 

“I’m not beautiful. I’m ordinary at best. I have mousey brown hair, blotchy skin, small breasts… and how can you know you love me or if I am any good at loving you?”  


“You _are_ beautiful,” Harry insisted, stroking Molly’s hair, “I love your silky brown hair. Your skin is soft-“ Harry petted her face- “Once you’re properly nourished your skin and hair will practically glow; then you'll be radiant- not that you aren't now. As for your breasts…” Harry cupped them through Harry’s bedclothes, a hungry look on her face, “They’re perfect. Let’s find out together how to love each other.”  


Harry pressed her body against Molly, feeling her breasts against hers. Molly moaned as her excitement grew. Harry kissed Molly gently small pecks that escalated to passion as she pressed her tongue inside her mouth, feeling every recess of her mouth against her tongue.  


Molly was excited, but afraid making a mistake. She pulled her tongue away at first when Harry slipped inside her mouth, but she was quickly overcome by desire and brought her tongue out to meet hers, and then slid her tongue into Harry's mouth, passionately delving. Harry’s hand stroked down Molly’s side to her bum, squeezing it earnestly. Molly, not wanting to disappoint, mirrored her actions. Harry pulled away from the kiss and studied Molly’s face.

 

“Did I do something wrong?” Molly asked, speaking the lines she was taught as a Submissive, “What can I do to please you better?”

 

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, “Stop that. This is about you too. Are you just repeating what I’m doing because you think that’s what I want, or is it what excites you? I want you to be happy. Bringing happiness to you is what excites me the most. You’re not doing anything wrong, I’m not mad I’m just not sure you’re allowing yourself to be happy. You are so tense,”

 

Harry coaxed Molly to turn over and began massaging her back. Molly sighed in delight. Harry lifted her night dress, pulling it over Molly’s head.

 

“Relax,” Harry continued to message her back from her shoulders down to her spine, and to the small of her back.  


Molly shiver’s with desire at the feeling of her hands on her bare skin. Once she was satisfied that Molly was less tense, Harry placed kisses on her back and whispers in her ears, “Just do whatever you feel like doing.”

 

Molly sat up, turning and taking Harry's left hand. She kissed each finger slowly from base to tip. Harry leaned forward and kissed Molly’s neck, working her way down to her collar bone. She kissed her way down to Molly’s exposed nipples, which were the same chestnut brown as her hair, and nibbled gently on them. Molly let out a gasp and a moan. Her breasts were still quite sensitive from the lingering effects of Heat on her body and they sting in pleasurable ways that that sent strange sensations through her body. Molly’s curious fingers sought out Harry’s small but perky breasts, feeling them as best as she could through Harry’s dress and bodice.

 

Aroused, Harry hastily lifts off her dress and Molly strokes Harry’s small slick cleft with one hand while sticking two fingers down her corset and feeling Harry's small nipples. Harry leaned in and kissed Molly on the lips passionately while wrapping her arms and legs around her. Molly toppled back on the bed, Molly letting out a startled noise. They both began to giggle and rolled over on their sides facing each other. Molly looked into Harry’s light blue eyes, seeing her admiration and lust for her in them.

 

“Can you help me out of this blasted corset?” Harry asked in a frustrated tone.

 

Molly undid the eyelet hooks in the front and Harry hastily removed her corset and under dress, hurling them across the room. Molly cupped Harry’s breasts, seeing them fully for the first time, and explored every inch.  


“You’re gorgeous,” Molly exclaimed, leaning in press quick kisses to every inch of her breasts, lingering on her pale, rose coloured nipples. Harry stroked Molly's sides, kissing her on the forehead and dragging her upwards. Harry brought her left hand up and stroked Molly's hair from the top of her head to mid back, feeling its satiny softness. Molly stared into Harry’s eyes, “I don’t know what you see in me. You're so gorgeous.”

 

“You are beyond gorgeous Molly, and you deserve all the love in the world. Lay on your back. I want you to see how beautiful you are.”  

 

Molly complied and Harry began kissing her way from Molly's lips to her breasts, to her stomach, all the way to her navel. She teased her, groping her thighs while stroking her clit through her bloomers Molly moaned and panted.  


“Do you want more?” Harry panted.

 

“Yes! Please don’t stop!” Molly pleaded.  


“I want you to do something for you, something I think you need. Tell yourself that you're beautiful and that you love yourself.”  


“What?” Molly blinked in confusion, “That's silly. I love _you_. Why would I tell you I love myself? That's egotistical.”

 

“You're the far from egotistical, Molly. You are a sweet, lovely, beautiful person and I want you to believe that.”

 

Harry kissed her navel again, then striped off Molly’s bloomers, staring in wonder at her lovely ruffle-like rose lips.  


“Now say it,” Harry insisted, lazily stroking her nether lips, “Say you love yourself and that you're beautiful.”

 

Molly felt like she was on fire. She panted, feeling her heart rate start to rise. She could hardly stand how slowly Harry was stroking.  


“Please, I want more. Please!” Molly cried out, falling back on her training for how to respond to a Dom again.

 

“Then tell me Molly. Tell me how do you look.”

 

“I, I, I… look… beautiful,” She gasped in between panting, feeling silly. Harry began to stroke her earnestly, causing Molly to moan, “Ooooh Harry!”

 

Harry stopped and Molly let out a frustrated sound, "Say it again. Say it.”  

 

“I look beautiful,” Molly stated with more confidence.

 

Harry began stroking her clit more vigorously this time.

 

“Say you deserve love,” Harry ordered, her tone that of an Alpha but yet still filled with great love and compassion.

 

“I… deserve… to be loved!”

 

Harry stroked her even more vigorously and Harry let out a scream as indescribable sensations travel through every part of her body, her legs twitching. She began to cry tears of joy, feeling beautiful for the first time ever. She mourned for all the time she never thought of herself that way. Harry held her close, letting her cry on her shoulder, kissing her cheeks, and tasting her tears.

 

“I love you, Molly. I hope you are beginning to love you.”

 

"That was amazing. I love you, Harry. Thank you. Thank you."  


"I’m not done," she teased, tenderly stroking her face with one hand as she slid up, removing her own bloomers, “I want to try something. Place your leg over mine. That's it.”

 

Harry placed her other leg over Molly's, bring their pussies together, and began to rock back and forth. She stroked Molly’s breasts, kissing her lips passionately. Molly gasped in between kisses, feeling overwhelmed with desire. She began to stroke Harry’s sides all the way down to her bum. Curiously bringing her fingers around front to her hipbone and stroking the edge of her pubic area.  


Harry shivered with excitement but refuse to give in to her desires till she had fulfilled Molly. She stopped abruptly, pushing herself down till her face was in between Molly's legs, kissing and nibbling her thighs to elicit moans from Molly. She slowly kissed her way down her thighs to the apex of her legs and her vulva. Molly’s excitement continued to grow. She began to pant again, her heart pounding nearly out of her chest. Harry ran her tongue delicately along Molly’s moist lips, tasting her bitter sweetness as she slid her tongue along, wriggling it vigorously when she got to her clit. Molly moaned, reaching down to stroke Harry's dirty-blond hair. Harry brought her hand up and placed it in Molly's while she continued to flick her clit. She switched it up, suckling on the swollen nub, nibbling lightly as Molly let out a startled squeal of delight, her breathing coming even more rapidly.  

 

“Harry,” Molly says still panting, “I want more.”  

 

Harry’s efforts intensified and Molly gasped and screamed as her orgasms tore through her. This time Harry didn’t pull away but continue suckling and lapping at her intently. Molly's legs continued to jump, she felt like she was on fire, she could hardly stand it and yet didn’t want her to stop. She was covered in sweat and completely limp when Harry finally pulled away.

  
"Oh Harry,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around her and kissing her, then stammered as she searched for the right word, “Um I ...that is would you… can you...”

“Its okay no need for embarrassment,” Harry soothed.

“Will you show me how to do what you did? I never… I mean other than you and John…”

“Thats okay. We’ll take this slow. I’ll show you on you.”

Harry sits up with her legs spread wide open and motioned for Molly to mirror her.

They sat close with their legs overlapping. Molly looked down at her quim than across at Harry's.

“My lips are larger than yours. Am I normal? I’m not deformed am I?”

“No silly, not at all. John says we’re all different, even alphas are different from one another,” Harry took Molly’s hand and kissed it, “You're not deformed you’re gorgeous, all of you. Okay, you ever touch yourself?”

Molly blushed, “Yes but…. it was never like that.”

“That’s okay, I was never very good at it before. John says is often hard to find your clitoris.”

Harry showed Molly where her clit was, moving Molly's hand back and forth showing her how to stroke herself. Molly let out a little gasp, flushing with desire.

“It’s okay to make yourself happy, Molls. I’m certainly not going to be jealous,” Harry purred.

Then Harry showed Molly where her own clit was. Molly sat up and eagerly reached across to stroke her. Harry gently took her hand and kissed it, and then pulled her down so she was leaning over her and whispered in her ear.

“Build up to that. Take it slow. Improvise. Think of all the things about me that turn you on.”

Molly nodded her head while thinking. She leaned in and kissed her breasts, nibbling and swirling her tongue in patterns here and there, eliciting little gasps from Harry. At the same time she ran her fingertips along the bottom of Harry’s breasts, curving down to her side and sliding the very tips of her nails all the way down to her round bum. Harry shivered letting out a moan as she felt sensation travel downward.

“Oh Molls,” She breathed.

Molly kissed her way up to Harry’s collarbone; smiling in between tender kisses as she bussed her soft cheeks, relishing every touch just to feel her. Molly at last found Harry’s supple lips; slowly but passionately- all nervousness gone- she delved into her mouth, exploring the smooth surface of her inner cheeks and the grooved surface of the roof of her mouth. She kissed her way to her ear, lightly kissing and nibbling. Harry gasped in surprise and then giggled as she bit her earlobe.

“Molls! Oh you’re so naughty!” Harry giggled.

“Should I stop?”

“No, no, don’t stop! I like naughty,” Harry said, leaning in and nibbling on Molly’s lobe in return.

Molly gasped in surprise and then blushed as she leaned in and whispered for her to roll over. She continued kissing her way to the back of her neck, swirling the edge of her teeth and tongue along the sensitive area. Harry shivered again. She could hardly stand the wait; her breath becoming more rapid as Molly kissed her way down Harry's back. Coming to the beautiful curve in Harry's back Molly kissed it, tenderly stroking it with her fingertips and feeling every inch of her. She nibbled here and there, sliding her tongue down up and down spine. Harry shivered and moaned. Molly stroked her bum, nibbling and kissing each cheek. Then she kissed her way around her hipbone to the front of her, guided her in rolling over, and slid her teeth along the top of her pubic area. Harry shivered.

“Oh Molls, please I want you so much!” She panted in anticipation.

Molly began kissing her inner thighs. She stroked her lips with curious fingers, slowly feeling their delicate softness along every inch before pressing on her clit and beginning to tease in earnest. Harry’s moans and were coming more rapidly.

“Please! Oh please, Molls!” Harry begged, her head tossing and turning on the bedding.

Molly stroked her clit fully but slowly, remembering how mad it had driven her. Harry let out a frustrated moan. At last Molly picked up speed. It took longer than she remembered, and her hand was beginning to cramp, but at last Harry let out scream of delight.

“Molls your brilliant,” Harry sighed, her legs twitching a bit in the aftermath, “I love you.”

Molly took Harry’s hand and kissed it.

“I want more of you,” Molly whispered shyly blushing from ear to ear, “I want to taste you.”

She bowed her head to Harry’s quim, lapping at her moist lips and tasting her bitter sweet flavor. She wriggled her tongue along, feeling each delicate fold filled her with desire and curiosity. She pressed inside her with her tongue, mesmerized by the interior texture the tip was stroking. Harry stroked her hair encouraging her to explore her. Molly begins licking her clit eagerly. Harry started panting again, her breath coming in sharp gasps. Molly suckled on her clit, nibbling lightly on the hood around it.

Harry could hardly stand it. She panted and moans and thrashed as she felt the familiar sensation building, but she was still not there. She begged and cried out for her lover as the sensation hovered right on the edge. Molly sped up, gently nibbling directly on her clit this time.

“Harder!” Harry cried out, sobbing with frustrated pleasure. Molly obeyed, all worry of injuring her faded as Harry cried out, climaxing once more. Molly continued to nibble on her and Harry moaned and screamed Molly’s name.

“You… fantastic… Molls…” Harry gasped as she pulled away at last, “I feel so limp I can barely move.”

Molly wrapped her arms around her, snuggling close as Harry lay limp and relaxed beside her.

“Was it good?” She asked shyly.

“No Molls, it was _incredible_. You're a brilliant, passionate lover.”

Harry kissed her cheek, rolling onto her side so she could wrap her legs around Molly and bring her breasts to rest against hers. Harry caressed Molly’s soft hair as they drank in each other’s warmth. Comforted by their presence, they fell asleep.

Molly woke up needing to relieve herself. She gently unwound herself from Harry, but paused and stared at her for a moment; this lovely person who lavished her with affection amazed her.

On the way back from the washroom she found a piece of paper, quill, and ink. Then she sat beside Harry, drawing her curvy form, the small dimple on her, and her shoulder length light hair that curled under at the tips.

Feeling the absence of Molly’s warmth, Harry stirred and looked around the room. She was startled to find Molly staring at a paper unfurled on her lap, quill and ink on the side table.

“What are you doing awake, silly? Writing a letter?”

“Oh ...um… nothing that important,” she stammered, slipping the paper behind her. She was about to set it on the side table when Harry caught her hand.

“Let me see,” she says inquisitively, “Unless its personal?”

“No, not really,” she blushed as she sheepishly brought the drawing out from behind her back.

Harry caught her breath.

“Its amazing Molly!” She kissed her drawing. hand gently stroking her fingers, “You are almost as good of an artist as you are a lover!”

“Art? What, that’s not art. It’s just a sketch. It’s just something I do for fun. I’m not good.”

“With this fantastic detail? She asked, pointing to parts of the drawing, “The freckles on my face, and the cuticles on my fingernails, and the shading makes it jump off the page.”

“I'm not a artist. I'm not anything. I'm not allowed to be.”

“Who says you’re not?”

“Everyone. Omegas aren't allowed to have careers.”

“Sherlock does. We'll see what we can do for you. I want you to be happy Molls. I'll fight for your right to be happy, but you have fight to with me. You have to feel that you’re worthy of happiness.”

Molly nodded her head, though she looked unsure.

“For now I'll talk to John about getting you supplies,” Harry decided.

“Real art supplies are expensive. I don't want to trouble him.”

“Molls, come here.”

Molly put her drawing on the table and sat beside Harry, sheepish expression on her face.

“You are never any trouble. You’re a part of this pack. That means we look out for each other.”

“I'm not used to this whole being served by others thing. I’ve done nothing to deserve it. I want to do something for you. That’s why I drew this; and you want to give me something I thought was impossible! How can I ever repay you- any of you- for your kindness?” Her eyes welled up with tears but Harry gently wiped them away, kissing her on the cheek.

“You don't have to do anything to deserve to be treated with respect, Molls. That's what I'm trying to teach you,” She rubed her back as she spoke, “People won't respect us. They won’t believe us being together is right, or you being a artist is right, or even something as dumb as me having short hair is right. If we live our lives to the standards of what other people think we deserve or should be, we would be paralyzed. I want you to think of things that make you happy, anything within reason, and I'll try to help you achieve whatever you want.”

“What about you are you happy?” Molly asked through her tears.

“You make me very happy,” She kissed her gently, “If I think of anything else you can do to make me happy I'll tell you. I've never been afraid to speak my mind.”

Molly laughed, “No you sure aren't! I wish I was as brave as you.”

Molly leaned on Harry's shoulder and Harry took her hand and kissed her cheek.

“I'm no braver then anyone else. I feel afraid all the time. You have a brave heart in you, you've just been put down and stepped on so long you forgot it’s there.

She turned and kissed her on the lips passionately, filled with desire again. Harry pressed Molly back on the bed and she made no protest as Harry stroked her quim once more, kissing and nipping her ear as she pressed three fingers inside Molly. This time she felt around, intoxicated by the intricacy of what her fingers touched. She curved her fingers forward, searching for that fabled spot. Molly panted, turned on by the thought of her lover’s hand inside her. She wondered momentarily why Harry had curved her fingers forward, but then she felt a shockwave of pleasure hit her. She cried out Harry's name as her back arched and her legs spasmed. Harry kisses her once on her clit then pulled out, licking her hand.

“You want to taste yourself?” she asked with a wicked gleam to her eye.

“Yes. Is that weird?”

“No, you should know yourself find yourself find yourself attractive. That’s a part of sex,” she explained, bringing her hand to Molly's mouth. Molly licked Harry's hand, surprised to find she tasted just a bit different then Harry.

 

“What did you hit?” Molly asked.

 

“Your G spot.”

 

Molly leaned in, kissing Harry and tasting herself in her mouth. That oddly turned her on and they both begin to stroke each other once again, stealing little kisses. Molly reached inside of Harry, pressing her finger forward trying find what Harry had touched in her. She searched eagerly, stroking her, but didn’t get the results she expected. Sadly she sighed and pulled her hand out, too embarrassed to meet her gaze.

 

“It’s okay, Molls. This is our first time. You can't expect to get it perfect right away,”

She took her hand, kissing it, and placed it inside her to guide it in the right direction. Molly started to stroke again, gradually picking up speed. Harry's back arched this time. The intensity of it had her seeing stars. She screamed Molly's name as the sensations rippled through her body.

 

“Ahhhh! Molls! Fuck! Don't stop!” Molly continued for what seemed like forever to Harry before she finally pulled out, kissing her on the cheek.

 

“Oh Molls, I never knew It could feel like that,” She kissed her lips passionately and cupped her face, running her fingers over their mating mark with her other hand “You are mine and I am yours, never forget that. I will always be there for you, always protect you, comfort you, and take care of you.”

 

They nestled up close to each other again, breathing in each other's scent, pressing gentle kisses to skin, and entwining their arms and legs.

 

“I love you, too,” Molly whispered as they both drift off to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

Mycroft had been on Heat. Lestrade burst into 221 Baker Street, grinning from ear to ear, and announced it to the entire household before striding up to John at the breakfast table and kissing him full on the lips. John wiped off his face and gave the man a disgusted look.

“Mycoft went on Heat!”

“Yes. You mentioned,” Sherlock replied blandly, “How long ago? You aren’t limping about so it has to have been some days.”

“Last month. I wanted to wait until I could tell you the second part,” Lestrade replied, shaking with excitement, “He’s _pregnant!”_

John stood up and hugged Lestrade tightly laughing and slapping him on the back, “Come have a drink, father-to-be!”

The two men stepped aside, talking cheerfully and sipping burning amber liquid to celebrate the occasion. Mycroft wandered in at his own pace, a lacy grey parasol held in one hand. His grey frock, practical and elegant, fit his figure perfectly as he slipped into a chair across from his brother. Molly smiled softly and offered him breakfast.

“I ate already, thank you,” Mycroft replied.

“A blanket or pillow?” Molly asked, eager to assist.

“No thank you, I’m not nesting quite yet. I actually came to speak with my brother. A dear friend of mine is having quite the problem.”

“Oh?” Sherlock asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, it seems she got herself in a bit deep with a rather spirited Domme. The lady has some rather alarming heliographs of them together in a compromising position.”

“I take it they are _not_ mated,” Sherlock snorted.

“My friend has a mate, it just happens to _not_ be this particular Dominatrix.”

“Charming,” Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes, “Why should I help?”

“She’s a _very old friend_ ,” Mycroft emphasized, and Sherlock gasped theatrically.

“Oh, Sherlock, help him out. It’s not our business if Mycroft’s friend is loose.”

Sherlock and Mycroft gave John absolutely scathing looks.

“Oh, come on,” John laughed, “She’s cheating on her mate!”

“Forgive him,” Sherlock sighed, “He doesn’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” Mycroft replied.

“That may not be possible,” Sherlock replied, “I’m pregnant. My Alpha _must_ go with me on cases.”

“He giving you orders now?” Mycroft teased.

“He insists, and so do I.”

Mycroft sighed, “Very well, if you must. I suppose Gregory will be getting more protective of me.”

“Who says I’m already not?” Lestrade growled, then walked up and nipped his ear. Mycroft blushed and smiled prettily.

Sherlock stood up and walked around the table, tugging Harry’s hair playfully and tweaking Molly’s cheek tenderly before pausing to lean over his brother’s shoulder and look at the letter in his hand.

“A skipcode? Obvious.”

“To Omegas.”

“Not all Omegas are ours.”

“I assure you it made it to me unseen,” Mycroft replied.

“That will be important. She can’t know I am involved. I’ll have to go in disguise. John, we’ll be dressing as laborers. I’ll be a clothes washer; you’ll be a dogcart driver. Come along.”

John followed his lover upstairs and they changed into ragged, dusty clothes. Sherlock rented a dogcart for the day and John made merry chatting up the locals on a corner while waiting for work. When Mistress Irene stepped out of her posh home and headed down the steps he made sure to be the one to pick her up. He passed Sherlock, glancing down to see his lover dressed as an old woman, scrubbing clothes against a rusty washboard. He’d threatened him with hours of time-out if he nicked so much as a pinky finger on that disgusting board.

Ms. Adler had John drive her to three different shops where she bought obscene amounts of items for obscene prices and then back home again to meet a Beta who was practically quaking on her doorstep.

“Kneel!” She barked at him as she strode up to the door.

The rather ugly Beta male dropped to his knees and stared up at her worshipfully.

“Crawl inside, strip your clothes off, make yourself hard, and then lay down on the tile in the hallway until I feel like looking at you. Stay hard without touching yourself or I’ll throw you out. Without your clothes.”

Adler unlocked the door and gave him a kick to his backside to get him moving. John nodded admirably before guiding the horse back around again.

Sherlock was gone.

XXX

John got home in a panic after searching the immediate area, bolting into the living room to find Molly helping Sherlock into… a habit?

“Hello, John.”

“Where the _hell… ?!”_

“Here. You left and I had no way to contact you. I had to pee and decided it was time for a costume change. What did you find out?”

John recanted his time with Adler and Sherlock looked alarmed, “It’s a good thing I came back to change. We have little time. Ms. Adler will be gone soon.”

Sherlock adjusted the garment, donned a cross, and headed for the door.

“Do try to quell your arousal until _after_ we’re through getting that picture back!” Sherlock called back at John.

XXX

John met up with Sherlock who paused dramatically outside the black door. John doused himself in whiskey and they slugged Sherlock sharply across his cheek before giving him a flirty wink and bolting around the corner. Sherlock screamed and clutched at the railings of Adler’s entryway.

“Fiend! Brutalizer! Red! Red! Help!”

John tossed the whiskey bottle on the ground behind him to detain those who would run after him as Betas all around were swarming towards the upset and bleeding Omega, who sobbed and begged for an Alpha to comfort him.

“An Alpha lives here!” One of the Betas announced, and ran up to pound at the door, “Emergency! Madam! Emergency! There’s an Omega out here in subdrop!”

Adler appeared, her tight navy blue trousers complimented by a crème vest with gold buttons. She’d left her jacket behind in her hurry to get to the door, and upon spotting Sherlock she let out a concerned cry.

“Oh, you poor thing! Come inside dear, let Madam make it better!” Adler coaxed Sherlock into her arms and then into the house, followed by the worried Betas.

John stood outside the window, pressed against the cold brick wall, and waited until Adler opened it.

“Thank you,” Sherlock’s voice reached him, “The air does me good.”

“Tell me, darling, how does a pregnant Omega come to be alone on the streets to be mugged _and_ a nun?”

“I was a victim of rape, my Lady,” Sherlock explained in a choked voice, “My mate left me rather than kill the cub inside me and reclaim me. He was… weak.”

Weak was John’s signal and he lit the little roll in his hand and tossed it in through the window.

“Fire!” John shouted, “Fire!”

Adler let out a shout of alarm, “Get the Omega out of here! Quickly! You! Call for the fire department! I’ll… what is _this_?”

John bolted to the doorway where Sherlock had hurried out to meet him and they both bolted down the street before ducking into an alley. Sherlock chuckles while John stared at him intently.

“Well? Where is it? Beneath those robes?”

“No, I couldn’t manage to grab it just then. We’ll have to go back tonight. She’ll be indisposed, of that I’m sure.”

“But we still don’t know where it is!” John snapped irritably.

“Don’t we? When she heard the cry of fire she looked towards the mantel.”

“So?”

“So, what does everyone do when they hear a cry of fire? Omegas would look towards their cubs, Alphas to their Omegas, but an unattached Alpha? Towards something that could _earn_ her an Omega.”

“The picture!”

“Exactly. Ms. Adler wants breeding rights into the royal family, and she can get it if she manipulates them the right way with that portrait. She bought mating gifts today. She’s _courting_ , and that picture his her chance to produce royal offspring. Perhaps only a duke or duchess, but still everything she could want for her future heirs.”

“I almost feel bad for her. Here I am with a house full of Omegas, some of whom I intentionally _won’t_ be breeding, and I keep forgetting that ten percent of Alphas never get a chance to so much as touch an Omega.”

“Well, she’ll not get her way,” Sherlock replied, “Not like that. We aren’t creatures to be bought and sold. Come, John. Let’s liberate that item before she liberates an innocent Omega from his or her family and starts using them to force-breed her heirs.”

“And there goes my pity. Alright, when?”

“Tonight at midnight,” Sherlock stated firmly.

“Excuse me,” A young woman piped up, passing them quickly shawl wrapped tightly around her head, neck, and threadbare dress.

“Beg pardon,” John replied, stepping out of her way as she hurried down the alley and back out to the street.

“Odd,” Sherlock muttered, “Her voice sounded familiar. Ah, well, let’s get home and put you in a priest costume so you can here my confessions and then punish me with my own ruler.”

“Best plan you’ve had all day!” John crowed.

XXX

Sherlock refused to wear Alpha clothes so instead he broke into the flat in his _underwear_. The long pantaloons with their ties and laces all over the place were distracting John horribly, but not nearly as much as Sherlock starting to shout and swear in the middle of their break in.

“Sherlock! Shhh!”

“She’s gone! She’s gone and so is the picture!” Sherlock shouted angrily, turning away from the false back of the mantel to show John a picture of only herself looking smug… in women’s clothes.

“Oh… that’s… she’s an Omega?”

“She’s an Alpha who posed as an Omega, heard our plan, and beat us here!” Sherlock snapped, “She pulled my own damn trick on me!”

Sherlock held out the letter that accompanied the picture.

“Dear Dr. and Mr. Watson,” John read aloud, “I assure you, and you may pass on my assurances, that I will not be using my token of a beautiful love affair to ‘force breed’ royal heirs. Never have I heard an Omega speak so firmly on the effects of such hostile actions before. While I do not regret my ways, I do withdraw from them. Perhaps the next time we meet you will great me with one of the Omegas you have stored up in your home. If you have no use for them I assure you I do, and that I will ask them for their permission nicely in the future. Sincerely, Madam Irene Adler.”

“She leaves us with her image and assurances that may or may not be true,” Sherlock sighed, “I’ll have to answer to Mycroft for this. He’ll be smug and annoying for weeks.”


	17. Chapter 17

John nodded to the pretty Omega, who bobbed a polite courtesy while giving him an appraising look. The Beta who was his chaperone shook John’s hand and gave him a warm smile. It struck the pack Alpha just how much the Beta resembled Sherlock immediately, right down to the omeganine clothes she wore. Betas had no actual dress code, though most female Betas wore omeganine clothing it was not an expectation; yet here she was in full skirts with enviable curls bobbing about her head. The shocking part was that someone might find her more appealing than her Omega charge with all those colorful layers. Of course, once the Omega slipped out from behind her to sit down in a highbacked chair any thought that he’d be overshadowed was gone from John’s mind. He wasn’t just pretty, he was charismatic and his dark eyes threatened to swallow up any Alpha in the area.

“So,” John started, “Tell me about yourself, Mr. Moriarty.”

“Please, James will do,” Moriarty purred, his voice flowing like honey, “After all we’ll be pack soon.”

“That’s not certain,” John replied, “I have all the Omegas I want. I need Betas more than anything else.”

“Why do you think I dressed her so prettily?” Moriarty replied with a teasing tone.

 _Oh!_ _The Beta is bait!_

“So if you don’t join, she won’t join?”

“Correct.”

“Then I’d better have your name, too,” John decided, though normally Beta chaperones were meant to be seen, not heard.

“Moran,” She replied, her tone surprisingly gruff, “Siobhan Moran.”

“Furthermore,” Moriarty crooned, “I’m barren.”

John first gaped in shock, then schooled his expression to one of polite sorrow, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“It’s hardly a loss,” Moriarty replied, shocking John further, “I never wanted to be sold off to the highest bidder. Now I don’t have to be, I’m as useful as a Beta… perhaps a bit more since I’ve got a comforting Omega scent; A _valuable_ asset for any Alpha with a harem. I can care for your young while you tend to your mates.”

John shifted uncomfortably. On one hand he agreed with the young man. On the other hand it was awkward to find an Omega who was _all right_ with being infertile. It most often caused insanity. It most certainly wasn’t _talked_ about.

“I think I’d better bring the pack Omega in,” John replied, clearing his throat, “Maybe he can give me a bit of… perspective.”

To John’s shock Moriarty reached out and grabbed his wrist as he walked past him. John gaped down at the forward Omega, but the strange creature merely smiled up at him.

“Please understand, Sir,” Moriarty spoke softly, his voice placating and his Irish brogue endearing, “I make light of it so others will. If my employers knew I still longed for children they would never let me raise theirs. I do love children, but I am content not to have my own. In three months the children I have cared for since they were in diapers will be going away to school. I will be entirely alone. I can certainly say goodbye to them and move on, but to have nothing to move on _to…”_

John nodded, tugging his hand free, “You shouldn’t touch Alphas you barely know. It’s inappropriate.”

He’d kept his tone scolding, but he was met with an amused chuckle, “I was under the impression such things didn’t matter in your pack. Isn’t that why you have two Omegas who are bonded to each other?”

John froze with his hand on the doorknob. _Oh gods. No one is supposed to know about that. They could be lynched!_

“I’ve no idea what you’re…” John started, turning to face the Omega only to find he hadn’t turned in his chair. He had his back to John even as he cut him off to reply.

“Don’t be obvious,” Moriarty snapped, his voice gone cold, “You’re a terrible liar. In the future have an Omega present, preferably one who can lie well. Alphas are incredibly stupid, but I doubt you’d be able to pull one over with that horrified look on your face.”

“How _dare_ you!” John snarled, his Dom rising up in outrage at the defiance from an unmated, unpacked _Omega_.

“I dare because my sources say you don’t look down on Omegas the way most Alphas do.”

“I don’t let my sister call me stupid either,” John snarled, “I punish her for it.”

_Never mind that it’s usually with a screaming match that she wins…_

“Do you?” Moriarty asked, his back still to John as though he could care less what the Alpha did, “Do you do it in front of her well-fucked mate?”

John didn’t remember what happened next. All he registered was standing at the door to their town home and staring down at the Omega sprawled in the dirt with a shocked look on his smug face. His skirts were askew and his Beta ducked beneath John’s arm to scamper down the front steps and fuss over the Omega. 

“Lucky me I’m one of _very_ few Alphas who take what Omegas say seriously. Good luck selling your ridiculous story to anyone. You want in a pack? Try buying your way in or romancing your way in. This isn’t a bloody corporate takeover; ” John scoffed, and then slammed the door in the Omega’s face.

“What was _that_ all about?” Sherlock asked, hurrying down the stairs in a flurry of skirts, “I could smell your rage through the vents upstairs!”

“ **Slow down!”** John barked, and Sherlock froze on the steps with a raised eyebrow, “Damn. Sorry. That Omega I was interviewing really infuriated me. He was trying to use Molly and Harry against me!”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and he finished his descent to take John’s arm, “Come and sit down. Relay to me _exactly_ what he said and how his face looked. Do not leave out _any_ detail. The slightest thing may be significant, even if you do not see how.”

XXX

Molly and Harry were doing a last minute walk through of her studio, making sure everything was in place for when Mr. Turner arrived. Molly looked a bit apprehensive so Harry asks her what was bothering her.

Molly sighed, “He’s the third artist this week and the twelfth this month what if he says no? He’s the most pro Omega artist in this country, if _he_ says no were not likely to find anyone.”

“Then we’ll send for some one in another country. We’re not going to give up Molls.” Harry replied, kissing her cheek and looking deeply into her eyes. She still seemed full of doubt and uncertainty.

Molly sighed again, “What if Mr. Turner says I’m no good?”

“Molly that could never happen. We all believe in you; me, my brother, Greg, even Sherlock and you know how hard _he_ is to impress. You just need to believe in yourself.”

Harry took Molly’s hand and noted she was still trembling, glancing down to take in Molly’s shaking hands.

“I can’t draw like this,” Molly whispered, tearing up, “I’m too nervous! I can’t even hold a quill or piece of chalk, let alone use them!”

“Oh Molls,” Harry soothed, stroking her fingers and caressing her wrists, “you can do this.”

Harry thought for a moment and then got a sudden burst of inspiration as she moved to stand behind her. She was a few inches taller then her so she rested her chin on her shoulder and whispered softly in her ear, squeezing her hand firmly.

“You’re not alone in anything you do. I’m with you. I ‘m inside of you and a part of you,“ she stroked the bounding mark on her neck and Molly breathed deeply, inhaling her scent calmed her down significantly. Harry placed a piece of chalk in Molly’s hand, steadying her hand with her own and pressing her arm tightly to hers. Molly leaned against her, completely relaxed in her arms as Harry supported her some. As they leaned against each other Harry whispered in her ear again.

“Good. Now be my good girl and draw for me please.”

“What should I draw?“

“Lets play our favorite game shall we? I describe someone and you draw them and we see how close we can get _together_.”

This had become a favourite game; not just of Harry’s, but also John and Sherlock. John had gasped in amazement at how spot on she had been at the depiction of his cross-eyed, beaked nosed physiology professor. Sherlock had laughed in approval at how accurately Molly had rendered the way his old governess’ nose would flair when she was pissed off at him- which was so often he was at one point convinced that was the way it always was.

Harry whispered the description in her ear and they raised their locked arms together as a unit.

“Now guide me,” Harry whispers in Molly’s ear and let her arm go limp, supported mostly by Molly this time.

Molly began to draw as Harry continued to describe details of the person she wanted her to draw. It became evident as she went along that this was a person Harry highly admired, and even found attractive from the tone she used. As Molly added more features she realized she had seen this person before and she blushed as Harry gave her the last details of her own portrait. The one person she insisted she would never draw. She was so caught by surprise that she moved to put her arm to her side, but Harry held her arm firmly.

“It’s beautiful,” Harry insisted, “Don’t stop. You’re beautiful, talented, and smart,”

Harry caressed her side with her free hand as Molly finished the last details and they both stared in amazement.

“Its lovely,” Harry whispered, “Now when you’re in the room with Mr. Turner imagine I have you by the hand. I’m holding you steady, but you’re guiding me with your amazing gift. I could create this exquisitely detailed drawling, but I feel because of you I can be a part of what you do. Through encouraging you, helping you sell your work, and set up your studio. You asked me what I want to do, what makes me happy: representing you makes me happy.“

“Oh Harry,” Molly sobbed, throwing her arms around her, “You always know just what to do, just what to say.”

 Harry snorted, “Actually mostly I just fly by the seat of my trousers. It’s made me as many friends as enemies really. My last relationship was a wash. I never knew what to say with her and it always ended in an argument. It’s you really, Molls. You give me the right words. The inspiration for anything noteworthy I do or say.”

Harry leaned in and kissed her deeply, cradling her head and stroking her soft hair. For a moment they simply enjoyed each other’s touch, and then Harry moved to take their- she felt private- picture away in preparation for Mr. Turner’s arrival.

XXX

John showed the instructor into the room they’d set aside for Molly’s artwork. It was covered in drop cloths, and an easel and several shelves full of supplies had already been brought in. Harry and Molly loved to shop so John had just handed over his purse to them and they’d squealed and run off to make him less rich. John noted that Molly was wearing one of Harry’s old frocks, the better to ruin… or give new meaning to.

“Mr. Turner this is Molly, one of my subs, she’ll be the one receiving instruction. You may speak with her, obviously. Molly, this is Mr. JMW Turner. He came with quite a few references and a portfolio that Sherlock assured me was more than well put together. Be my good girl.”

John kissed Molly on her forehead fondly and then turned to leave, assuming the matter settled, but Mr. Turner was sputtering and looking flustered.

“Mr. Watson!” He spat out, his tone appalled.

“Dr. Watson,” John corrected, looking annoyed, “Is there a problem?”

“I’ll say there’s a problem! I can not teach an Omega a _career_!”

“Just leave the door open,” John stated, “I’ll be across the hall in my office… also with the door open.”

“That isn’t the problem! Propriety aside, Omegas have no need for _paid lessons_. If she wants to learn to paint I suggest she take instruction from a governess!”

John raised an eyebrow, prepared to dismiss the third such instructor to make that statement, but Sherlock took that moment to swan in.

“Mr. Turner!” Sherlock gasped, “Oh, John, dear, do introduce us!”

John smothered his urge to roll around on the floor laughing and instead introduced his very pregnant mate to the artist.

“This is such an honour,” Sherlock fluttered, holding out a hand to kiss the man’s knuckles, “I love your work. It’s so tempestuous!”

“Not _too_ tempestuous, I hope,” Turner blushed in the face of such an attractive Omega’s praise. Sherlock giggled and blushed.

The man was in his late fifties, but still had a charming face, his original blonde hair, and teeth. Any Omega would have flirted with him, so John felt himself move closer to Sherlock protectively without meaning to. The Alpha artist registered the move and nodded to John politely.

“You know,” Sherlock explained, “When Molly came to us she was so nervous and flighty. Her previous home had no decent Alpha care in it to handle her properly.”

“Oh dear,” Mr. Turner sympathized.

“My John here has done so much to calm her, and of course she needed a good Alpha in her bed.”

“Of course,” Mr. Turner nodded, “The solution to any Omeganine troubles.”

“Absolutely,” Sherlock nodded, “Yet she still has such fits of nerves! It was I who recommended painting. It can be so soothing. So therapeutic. The blues. The greens.”

“Yes, yes, but a governess…” Mr. Turner started.

“And of course you’re a Romanticist,” Sherlock cut him off, taking his arm and guiding him towards the window, “So you aren’t the sort to go about putting Omegas in their places.”

Turner glanced over his shoulder at John who smiled amicably, content to let his Omega manipulate the situation as he saw fit.

“People would talk,” Turner pointed out.

“People do little else,” Sherlock agreed, “Yet they are also aware of Molly’s history. To think that you, a great artist, are also adept at using your passion to train Omegas!”

“I… pardon?” Turner blinked.

John grinned. He could actually _see_ the point where the man started looking about for an Omega to explain things to him. _Do I look like that? Gods I hope not._

“Why what better way to both calm a frantic Omega _and_ train her in accepting obedience, than artistic instruction?”

“I… that… well, that’s rather brilliant.”

“Yes. I am,” Sherlock stated, then turned and walked out of the room without a single glance back and none of the quivering he’d done on the way in. John gave his swaying hips an appraising look and followed after him with a predatory leer. Harry was in the room. She could handle an Alpha prowling around Molly.

XXX

John slid the last bit of cloth off of Sherlock’s shoulders and drew in a soft breath at the sight of all that cream cloth pooling at his feet. His hips had widened to accommodate the pregnancy; his thighs and bottom had filled out even more. His back was arched with his belly protruding out in front of him. His formerly flat chest now had swollen to a tiny pair of breasts, so small that they weren’t visible beneath his clothes.

“They’re just for me,” John whispered, stroking his fingers across one full nipple.

Sherlock hissed, turning his head aside.

“They hurt?”

“They’re very tender. As if your fingers are feverish,” Sherlock whispered in reply.

“They burn?”

“Your touch burns.”

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” John whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I could spend days worshiping your body.”

“I would hardly object,” Sherlock smirked.

“I know you wouldn’t, you vain thing. You were unbearably sexy back there, you know,” John informed him as he guided him to step out of his mess of discarded clothes.

“I know,” Sherlock preened.

“Sit on my desk, you gorgeous thing. Let me study you like a text.”

Sherlock sat on the desk requiring John’s help to get on, which only increased his arousal. He loved to help the beautiful man when his full belly got in his way. Sherlock was only five months pregnant, but his slender figure showed off his belly beautifully. He was, of course, milking how much help he needed. By the time he was ready to squat down and push out their cubs he’d _really_ require help.

John knelt on the floor and nuzzled the hard belly. He was surprised that there was no fat over it as there should be on a pregnant Omega at this point.

“So thin,” John clicked his tongue, “We need to fatten you up. More cheese at breakfast, more biscuits at tea time, and more meat and rolls at dinner.”

“John!” Sherlock whined.

“Don’t you start. Our cub,” John stroked his belly, “Needs you healthy. You’re too thin.”

“I’ve got stretch marks already,” Sherlock pouted.

“Omega males are more prone to them. They’re pretty. Shall I lick them better?”

Sherlock smirked, “Yes.”

John moved lower and started at the top of the mound of hair surrounding Sherlock’s half-hard cock. He found the first stretch mark on Sherlock’s right hip and eyed up its path before leaning forward and running his tongue from bottom to top. Sherlock giggled and then moaned softly. John moved down and started on the next, directly beside his belly button. Sherlock carded his fingers through John’s hair and whispered his name softly, his tone loving. John smiled and nuzzled his belly button, wondering when it would protrude out from his body. He found the next mark and followed it from soft mound, over round bump, beside belly button, and up to the flesh that Sherlock’s uterus wasn’t pressing against yet. Sherlock’s arms had broken out in goose bumps and he stared down at John with wide eyes.

“John… John, I felt…”

“Yes?” John asked, his voice deep with lust.

“I felt a flutter.”

“I hope you felt more than… oh!” John’s eyes widened and he stared down at the belly in front of him in awe, “Our little one is moving already!”

“Like wings inside me,” Sherlock whispered, cupping his swollen abdomen, “How appropriate since you have set me free.”

“I think it’s you who freed me, beloved. Me, Harry, Molly… you’re our wicked tempter.”

“Are you complaining?” Sherlock asked, quirking an eyebrow, “I believe you were worshipping my belly, stuffed full of _your cubs_.”

John laughed a bit and lowered his face to lap at the final two stretch marks, both short ones on Sherlock’s left hip. Sherlock giggled and then burst out laughing when John intentionally tickled him. He tried to push the man away but he nuzzled into his hip and then rested his head on it and refused to budge. He was hiding his eyes so Sherlock wouldn’t see the tears of joy and love, but once they began to fall he knew Sherlock would feel them.

“I know,” Sherlock whispered, “It’s all so perfect.”

“Almost perfect,” John whispered, “Molly.”

“She’ll have other Heats. She wasn’t healthy enough to bear young this time.”

“Yes, but my sister… she deserves a family.”

“She’ll have one, my love. I promise you that.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can. Remember, I wooed you and made you a rich Alpha with a harem full of happy Omegas? Never underestimate me. Now come up here and see if I’ve got any milk for you.”

XXX

Sherlock slipped out of the house, his head covered with a hat that bent on either side and tied beneath his chin, his eyes downcast as a proper Omega Sub would behave. He stepped onto the pavement and waved his handkerchief to alert a handsome. One stopped and he found the outstretched hand without even looking at it. He was pulled up into the back of the small carriage where he sat demurely with his hands in his lap. His knee-high boots were laced tightly, the low heels as clean as the tops. His pale hands were covered in even lighter cream coloured gloves, and his dress was a stunning dark burgundy velvet with taffeta underskirts of the same light cream. The dress was full and swished with every step, his face carefully chalked and outlined to emphasize his stunning eyes. The demure square cut of the neckline had a flirty slit in the middle just to remind anyone who glanced at him that Omega males might not have breasts but their chests were most definitely functional.

_So prim and proper. So demure and delicate. We serve, obey, and submit. Yet we are the brightest and the strongest amongst our kind. An Alpha can punch a brick into powder, but an Omega can give birth to a child twice the size of that same stone and weighing roughly the same amount. An Alpha may bark orders, but we are the ones who gently coax them towards the correct path. We are the brains while they are the fists. So. If that is true then what was an Omega doing in our home behaving like an Alpha?_


End file.
